Not How We Were
by binawitch01
Summary: Alyssa is sick of having false hope. With the end of her home at the prison, the complete fail of the promised home in Terminus, she just wants her group to be safe. Now they're on the road, searching for something to hole up in. It just so happens that Alexandria is one of those places. Carl/OC. Part three of, "The World We Live In!" Read that first!
1. Chapter 1: Alive

_A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome to the third installment of my Walking Dead fanfiction! I'm super excited to write for season 5, since it's one of my ersonal favourites. I have a lot planned for Alyssa when we get to Alexandria. A lot. This ff will most likely be a bit darker than the others, which I'm sure some of you will detect in this chapter. I wanted to add to Alyssa's character, make her more dimensional._

 _So, I hope you guys like this chapter!_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead (the tv show or comic books.) I only own my OC and her own original plots. Everything else belongs to AMC and Robert Kirkman._

* * *

1.

 _*scrape scrape*  
_

2.

 _*scrape scrape*_

3.

 _*scrape scrape*  
_

The steady sound of my beating heart. The scratch of a zipper being yanked against wood. They are put together in time, a music to my ears.

The zig-zag motion I make with the zipper helps to sharpen the rotting wood. Each tug makes the point at the end more pronounced. The more pronounced, the better. I want it to _hurt_.

Rick had yanked it from the train car wall. He had grabbed one for himself, and he holds the shiv-like device tightly in his hand. We all have weapons, fashioned from what we had on. Rosita, a woman who had traveled with Glenn, had yanked out her hoop earrings and bent the metal, holding the sharp point between her fingers. Rick had taken off his belt and held the metal end in his hand. The metal part of the end that would push through the loop was being stomped on. Bent forward. The next time he grabbed the piece, it was set into his fist, and the prongs pointed outward from in between his fingers. We all kept busy with our makeshift weapons, gathering up as much as we could and making sure that they would hurt when they sliced into our capturers' necks.

As our hands work, we make small talk. It is too quiet in this prison, and the scraping sounds we make just isn't enough to soothe our senses.

 _"~ They seemed nice, but I was ready to go. We just got here, but, damn, it was time to_ _ **go**_ _. When I told 'em about DC, a wink and a nod from the head asshole in charge and we're back to our regularly scheduled shitstorm."  
_

 _"~ Before they put you in here, you didn't see Tyreese?"  
_

 _"No."  
_

 _"Good."  
_

 _"~ Black car with a white cross painted on it. I tried to follow it. I tried."  
_

 _"But she's alive?"  
_

 _"She's alive."_

Muttered arguments from outside the train car sound like warning bells in our ears. The adrenaline in my veins pump, fast and steady. In the darkness, I grin wickedly.

Daryl peeks through a crack in the wall. "Alright. Got four of 'em pricks comin' our way."

Rick stands up, holding his shiv steady. "You all know what to do." The rest of the group stands, ready to fight. I join, holding my sharp weapon in a tight fist. "Go for their eyes first. Then their throats."

We all prepare our stance; knees bent, arms out, weapons in front. Adrenaline fills the air so much that it's almost tangible. We're all ready.

Then some asshole ruins our mood.

 _"Put your backs to the walls on either side of the car NOW._ "

Not that we listen. We all keep our stance, looking expectantly at the door they'll most likely walk through.

But of course, this camp is full of assholes and they just _love_ to ruin our fun.

Glenn is the first to notice the footsteps on the roof. He looks up, and Maggie follows his gaze. The rest of us have the dawning realization of, "Oh, shit. This won't end well," as the ceiling bursts open and a can is thrown on the floor, hissing.

Abraham is the first to react. "Move!" He shouts, and runs to the other side of the train car. The rest of us follow in less than a heartbeat. The can pops with force, and a white spray fills the air. We all cough, our eyes burning from the sensation. I fall to the ground in a heap, coughing my lungs out and pushing my palms to my teary eyes. My shiv is dropped in my painful haze. An arm goes protectively around me, and though I can't see who it belongs to, the familiarity of the muscle makes me believe it's Rick.

Through my mindless daze, I faintly hear the sound of the door opening behind us. The light assaults my eyes as I look back to our captors, whom are wearing gas masks as they enter our jail. In the second I turn back, I look to the body that owns the arm that's around me, making me positive in my suspicions.

One of the little Termites grabs Rick, attempting to haul him out the car. I weakly grab his forearm, coughing out, "No. _NO_."

But then I realize that he isn't the only one grabbed. Glenn is being pulled away from his wife. Two other tall shapes are grabbed but I can't tell who they are. My eyes begin to fail me, and my head painfully spins around the room. _Goddam smoke. What is it? Tear gas or somethin'?  
_

The light from the door is gone in a flash, leaving the rest of us in a hazy darkness. With my last bit of strength, I grope around in the dark, my head held low. I find the cloth of a plaid jacket that I'm comfortably familiar with.

"Carl-" I wheeze out. His hand reaches my own, squeezing it. "They took Rick."

"I know." He hisses out, coughing profusely.

Through the haze, I can just barely make out Sasha's form on the ground, heaving heavily. I look for mom but can't see her.

My heart beats fast in my chest, wondering if she was another caught. The adrenaline that gave me such a thrill before has turned into a spark of fear and desperation.

"Mom?" My raspy voice calls in the dark. The haze is slowly clearing, but all I see are lumps on the ground.

"I'm here, Liz." She manages to cough out. I attempt to sigh in relief, but it's more of a wheeze than anything. "Head count." She says. "Maggie?"

"Here." Her Southern drawl is easily distinct.

"Sasha?"

"Over here." She answers weakly.

"Glenn?"

 _No response_.

"They..." Maggie coughs. "They took him. I don't know where."

"Shit." Mom says. I can see her form a few feet away to the left of me, sitting up from the ground.

"Daryl?"

 _No response. Again_.

"Shit." I say this time. We were hit worse than we thought.

"Abraham?" Mom continues.

"Over here." He calls, waving his hand through the mist. It barely does anything to the white fog that covers us.

Mom continues the roll call, and the other person missing is Bob. The mist is nearly clear now, and my lungs being to work their magic once more.

"Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and Bob." I say.

"Why?" Tara asks, passion in the word. I think _because they're picking us off_ but I don't want to say it out loud. That would make it true.

 _CLICK.  
CLICK CLACK_.

The familiar sound of bullets ripping through the air sound outside. _What_? I think, confused. With a _BANG_! the ground shakes immensely, throwing all of us over again.

"What the fuck was that?" I say, voicing everyone's thoughts.

"It couldn't have been them." Abraham thinks aloud. "These dicks wouldn't hurt their territory. Wouldn't make sense."

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." Tara says, her voice quaking. "Now we have two groups on our asses. That's _great_."

"They could be friendlies." I say the statement like a question, shrugging my shoulders. Even I don't believe the lie.

We all gain our footing once more, standing up and trying to get a good look of outside. Abraham looks over the one crack in the wall, desperate for an answer.

"What the _HELL_ is going on?!" He clenches his jaw tight as he growls out the words. A fist bangs the wall in frustration.

"Maybe our people got free." Sasha voices.

"Excuse me." Eugene pushes his way past her and shuffles over to the door. He bends down and grabs a single bullet shell from the ground.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rosita, obviously annoyed, asks.

"I might be able to use this shell to compromise the door." His voice, a mixture of a Southern accent and a science mind making an odd combination. "From the sound of things, there may not be anybody left to open it."

"Eugene, I'm sorry but shut up." Tara shakes her head at the science-speak.

He looks back down to the shell, a little red at the minor embarrassment.

"Hey." Carls voice rings beside me. I grab his hand and hold it tightly in my own. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. "My dad's gonna be back. They all are."

"They are." Maggie agrees behind the two of us. "And we need to get ready to fight our way out when they do."

Most give a half-assed nod at the statement, or nothing at all. She yanks Glenn's watch from her pocket and kneels down to the broken wall. Her hands pull the chain through the wood, back and forth.

Not many follow the request to keep ready, but I grab my makeshift shiv from the floor and hold it tightly like a lifeline. Mom works with the little materials she has left of her katana. She has the sheath to it, so she puts a long piece of sharp wood to it and ties it tightly together. _Bam, makeshift katana._

We all notice as a walker on the outside moans out. His dead, cold fingers attempt to push through the crack on the wall, as if to reach out and grab us. It just brings the thought of, "Shit. We're screwed." back to all of us. I look to the ground, not wanting to see him, but his growls still sing in my ear.

Sasha, lying on the ground whilst sharpening her weapon, looks up to Eugene. Her shoulders slump as she asks, "What's the cure, Eugene?"

He fumbles around with the shell in his hand. "That's classified."

 _Classified, man? Really?_

Sasha looks about as done with him as I am. She continues to try to reason with him, though. "We don't know what's gonna happen."

"You leave him be." Abrahams gruff voice calls out to her. He wraps his fist around in a broken cloth as he looks to Sasha's form on the ground.

"We need to keep working." Maggie points out to everyone, hoping to keep talking at a minimum. The walker at the door moans out, making her point more distinct.

"Yeah, but it's time to hear it." Sasha argues. "'Cause we don't know what's coming next."

"What's next is we get out of this." Tara tries to remain positive in the moment. Sasha says nothing back to her.

"Even if I told you all, even if I provided step-by-step instructions, complete with illustrations and a well-composed FAQ, and I went red-ring..." he looks to Sasha, and in a voice of confidence and composure, he finishes the statement. "The cure would still die with me."

"I'm not gonna let that happen." Abraham says in what I can only think of is his sing-song voice. The ginger soldier gives a stern, protective look to Eugene. It's a silent statement between them, Abraham saying that he will keep Eugene safe.

"The best case scenario, we step out into a hell storm of bullets, fire, and walkers. I'm not fleet of foot, I sure as hell can't take a dead one down with sharp buttons and hella confidence."

He looks back down to his work. As mom finishes the knot on her faux-tana, she tells him, "Yeah, but we can and we will."

Sasha stands up and looks at Eugene. His eyes warily meet hers. "You don't owe us anything. Not yet. But we just want to hear it."

"You don't have to." Rosita says, her tone strangely calm. Nothing like the roughness that Abraham talks with.

Eugene looks up at Sasha, then to the ground. A hand wipes his forehead and he sighs heavily. With a thought, he looks up from the ground. I notice that his hands are shaking as he eyes over everyone around him. "I was part of a ten-person team at the Human Genome Project to weaponize diseases to fight weaponized diseases."

As he speaks, the rest of the group stands up to listen. "Pathogenic microorganisms with pathogenic microorganisms. Fire with fire. Interdepartmental drinks were had, relationships made, information shared. I am keenly aware of all the details behind fail-safe delivery systems to kill every living person on this planet."

He looks to Sasha as he finishes his little speech. "I believe with a little tweaking on the terminals in DC, we can flip the script. Take out every last dead one of 'em. Fire with fire." Abraham gives a nod of respect to the scientist he guards. Sasha looks dazed from the information.

"All things equal, it does sound pretty badass." Eugene gives a smirk at his own words.

Maggie doesn't seem impressed. Instead, she changes the subject. "So let's get back to work."

I start to make my way over to where I sharpen my shiv, but a heavy banging sounds outside the door. All of us crowd around it once more, our weapons held proudly in front of us. This time, we get to put them to use.

Rick pulls the door open for us, holding an AR 14 in one hand. The sounds assault my ears, screams from the dying Termites and guns being shot from everywhere. The adrenaline comes back, flowing freely in my veins. It's absolute chaos out here.

"Come on!" Rick screams to us. My eyes search for the other three that were captured and find them beside our metal prison. They all hold weapons and are stabbing at the undead. "Fight to the fence!"

We all run out of the train car as he shoots the gun. Whether it's at a dead one or the living, I'm not sure. I don't really care either way. They're both trouble.

"Do not leave his side!" Abraham instructs Rosita as he runs out fast, stabbing a walker in its eye. I go next, the closest walker to me receiving a harsh stab in the decaying skull.

"Gogogo!" Glenn shouts over the sound of the speeding bullets. He hovers at the door as the rest of us file out, waiting for Maggie. As soon as she reaches him, though, it's all work.

It's utter chaos in the Terminal base. Buildings on fire, concrete crumbling from the first initial blast. The dead roam the path freely, moaning and trying to catch a bite out of me and my family. We're lucky enough that some have decided to feast on our enemies, the Termites. Those that are a meal scream in agony; some try in vain to shoot the walkers that are ripping their flesh apart. Those that aren't food are trying to kill us. I can say safely that they don't get even close to hurting us.

Rick uses his gun to create a semi-path for us. It's a hard game to play. The walkers in front of us are gunned down, but the ones behind us try to follow the sound. We are faster than them, and that isn't the only perk we have. We kill them, too.

After I stab a particularly gruesome-looking walker, (the stomach cavity was completely missing. Its guts were spilling out over the pavement and its large intestine trailed slightly behind it,) the group crowds around the fence.

"Up and over!" Rosita calls out to us.

Most of us follow. The rest travel a little behind for protection. I'm one of those. I stay to the right of the group, stabbing as many as I could. Some of the living Termites, including our ole' friend Gareth, are on the rooftop. They attempt to shoot at us, but the range is too far away for their weapons. Rick should have known that, too, for his rifle, but he continues to blindly shoot at them in anger.

I'm so preoccupied by Rick's gun that I almost miss the sound of a scream beside me, getting louder as the person charges. It's a man, on the older side. His sand pepper colored hair is slowly turning grey, and he sports a beer-belly. In his hand is a machete, held proudly in his hand as he runs to me.

Rick easily shoots him, the bullets going through his stomach. Three growing trails of blood seep through his shirt as he cries out in pain. He falls to the ground, lying on his back. The machete clangs against the floor. I give Rick a nod of thanks, which he returns. I think he expects me to go to the fence after, but I don't.

Instead, I run over to the dying man. I see the agony on his face, the fear chilling through his bones. Instead of sympathizing, I grin wickedly down to him. I can hear his panicked breaths like music to my ears. I take my shiv in hand, and bend over him. The splintering wood meets his skull, and I watch the light leave his eyes. The feeling of warm blood trickles down the shiv and onto my hand. I look to it and yank it out. I watch each drop, slowly moving along the curves of my palm and sliding off the sides, as if entranced. My grin from earlier fades to a horrified frown.

 _What's wrong with me?_

"We gotta go!" Daryl's voice brings me out of my terrifying thoughts. I hastily rub my red palm against me jeans, as if it could get rid of the evidence that I _enjoyed_ the kill. My breath catches in my throat at the thought _. I'm turning into a psychopath._

In a last-ditch effort, Rick runs close to the roof and fires a couple shots to Gareth. He manages to hit the Termites' shoulder, and with the victory he runs back to the rest of the group. I follow him.

I hoist myself over the broken fence and head to the forest with the rest of the group. My guess is that we're heading back to where the duffel was stuffed only a few hours ago. It seems to be the logical move.

I travel behind most of them, though Abraham is the one to take the true back. I guess he needs to make sure all the ducks are in line, to make sure Eugene's safe.

My eyes wander to the shiv I hold in my clean hand. The wood has taken on a stain, a red that is slowly drying into it. My mind goes back to the man's face. The horrified look in his eyes. The way they went blank after I stabbed him.

I close my own and take a shaky breath, hoping to clear my thoughts. The darkness that I see only makes it worse.

"Hey." I hear a soft, comforting voice say. I open my hazel orbs to see Carl walking beside me. His sheriff hat somehow made it through the compound without falling off his head. His blue eyes hold clear concern in them. "You alright?"

I can't look into his eyes too long. The comforting hue just makes me feel guilty about my earlier actions.

I answer him with a quiet, shaky voice. "No. I'm not."

"Hey." He grabs my bloody hand and holds it tightly in his own. "We're okay. Got it?"

I give a small, barely-there smile. "Better be."

He smiles back, reassuring me. I take one last look at the shiv before I drop it to the grass. I don't need it anymore.

He doesn't let go of my hand as we walk through the green. Without speaking he knows that I need an anchor. After what happened last night, and now? I'm on the breaking point. He knows it. And he knows how to help.

We make our way to the small clearing, where our duffel is stashed. "Right here." Daryl says, and drops to the ground to dig it out with his hands.

"What the hell are we still around here for?" Abraham asks, impatient.

Rick sets his AR 14 down and helps Daryl to dig. "Guns. Some supplies."

He starts to make a plan. "Go along the fences. Use the rifles. Take out the rest of 'em."

My grip on Carls hand tightens. _No_ , I think. _I can't. Not now_. I fear what I could possibly do in another fight. I can't do it again. At least not now.

"What?" Glenn says, confused. I mentally sigh in relief.

"They don't get to live." Rick says, as if it's that simple.

"Rick." Glenn sounds annoyed by our leaders gun-ho attitude. "We got out. It's over."

Rick yanks out his Python from the bag in the dirt, checking the ammo. "It's not over 'till they're all dead."

"The hell it isn't." Rosita sides with Glenn on the matter. "That place is on FIRE. Full of walkers."

"I'm not dicking around with this crap." Abraham puffs out. _He has_ _ **such**_ _a way with words_. "We just made it out."

Maggie takes a different approach from the angry ginger. "The fences are down. They'll run or die."

Rick looks to the group, but no one stands with him. Not even mom, or Carl, or me. We're done with this fight.

The crunch of leaves to my left alerts the whole group to another person. At first my muscles tense up, ready for another fight. But I drop the stance as soon as I see the crossbow hanging from her tiny fist.

Daryl runs to her the moment he realizes her identity. Their arms wrap around each other tightly, almost crushing each other with the force. I can hear the small laughs they make as he picks her up from the ground, only for a moment but feels longer. The crossbow, _his_ crossbow, is left on the ground, completely forgotten for the time-being.

 _Carol_.

Alive and well. Right in front of us.

 _She saved us from Terminus.  
_

I can't believe my eyes. Happiness is the first emotion that floods through my body. My friend, my _family_ , finally back with us. The second emotion is anger. She killed Karen and David at the prison. She killed two of us.

I shake the second emotion away. I don't want this moment to be ruined by my own thoughts.

I watch, a tear in my eye, as Daryl's arms stay around Carols middle tightly. I can feel his relief, tangible in the air. He never wants to let her go. His head rests on her shoulder, and her arms go around his neck to keep him close.

This moment between them, so _pure_. And _happy_. I never believed such a thing is possible after such a bloodbath. I'm happy to stand corrected.

Rick takes slow, incredulous steps toward the two. In his eyes is happiness and amazement. I can see it everywhere in our group.

"Did you do that?" He asks her. Daryl, though he doesn't want to let go of Carol, reluctantly pulls away and grabs the crossbow from the dirt.

She doesn't say anything. Instead, she sucks in her lips tightly and stares at him. Tears well in her eyes as she looks up to him. There isn't disgust in his eyes, which I'm pretty sure she's looking for. Instead, she's met with a gracious hug from him.

It seems like forever before they pull away from each other. Carol keeps a hand on his shoulders as she says, "You have to come with me."

The rest of the group doesn't complain. We all follow her trail as she leads us up a trail. It leads to an old wooden lodge, once cozy for a camping family. This time, it holds two friends that I haven't seen in a long time.

At the same time, Sasha, Rick, and Carl break out into a full-on sprint to the house. Tyreese is outside, holding baby Judith in his arms.

 _Judith. Tyreese. Alive and well._

I can't believe my eyes. _Judith_. It takes all my strength not to run with the Grimes. Instead, I settle for a huge grin on my face as I stand by mom, who looks to them contently.

I can hear the relieved laughs from Sasha as her arms wrap around her brother, and the joy in the whispered sayings of, "you're okay!" that Carl tells Judith. Rick holds his baby in his arms, and she fits like a puzzle piece in them. All the happiness I've seen today, after such a brutal fight, is a much welcomed sight.  
Rick looks up to the group, and I notice the few tears of happiness that escapes his eyes. Normally, I would be worried about tears from him. But I know the origin of these ones. They aren't from pain or loss. They are from his two children, safe and sound and in his arms.

His eyes find mine, and the arm that relaxes around Carls shoulder beckons me over. I cock my head to the side, and he makes the same motion. I look behind me, where mom stands. Maybe it was for her? But I realize, no. _It's not for her, or for me_. It's for _us_.

I don't question the motion again. I walk over to the family huddle, mom trailing behind me, and we crowd around Judith. Carl cradles her head in his hand. My own goes to push a tiny wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. Mom rests a hand on Carls' shoulder as she watches the two of us with the baby.

In this moment, this joy, I truly smile. A grin that reaches from ear to ear. I can feel the tugs on my heart that tell me that, yes, this is _real_. I'm not dreaming. I'm not making this perfect scene in my head. That hand on my shoulder _is_ mom, and that little whine _is_ Judith's. The laughter that fills my ears _is_ from the group, and we are okay. _It's really happening_. Judith is alive, and Carol's alive, and we made it out of Terminus. We are safe.

We are _alive_.


	2. Chapter 2: Shit Luck

_A/N: Hey everyone! Please don't kill me for this ridiculously long wait._

 _I am so, so sorry for that. I don't even have a good excuse for it being so long. I made this chapter super long (over 6 thousand words!) in hoped that you all can forgive me. I'm trying to get to a regular schedule to get new chapters out, hopefully once every week. This hopefully includes updating my Agents of SHIELD fanfiction also._

 _So, let's not keep this delayed! Onto the new chapter!_

* * *

The forest is quiet as we trek along the beaten path. Almost too quiet for my liking. With such a great number of us, I expected to hear thunderous footsteps, but they're all surprisingly soft.

My hands feel completely empty. Normally, I would have a gun or my knife in hand. Now, thanks to the Termites who took my weapons, I have nothing. It feels wrong. I should have protection of my own. I don't.

Maggie sets a hand on my shoulder, surprising me. I jump at the sudden contact.

"Sorry." She apologies, taking her hand back from me.

I mentally berate myself. "Don't be. I'm just a bit jumpy. It's quiet."

"Yeah, it is." Normally the woods calm me. The sweet air, the green grass, the way my hair blows in the wind. Now, all I smell is smoke. The grass beneath me is crunched down and left with red and my hair is a fucking mess.

"What's on your mind?" I ask.

"Just checking up on you." She says. The concern I see in her eyes is real, and the thought calms me. _She cares_ , I think. But it also makes me nervous. _Did she see_?

"I saw you, in the woods." Maggie tells me. Her voice drops to a whisper and she moves to my ear. "You were shaking from head to toe. Eyes as wide as saucers. What happened?"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. She saw my freakout, but not the cause. I can work with this.

"I just..." I start, but my voice chokes up. I shake my head again and clear my throat. "It was scary, y'know? I just thought we weren't all gonna make it."

Maggie's worry seems to fade at the lie. Her hand rests on my shoulder, and this time I don't jump from it. "Well, we did. We're all okay."

I nod and give her a soft, but _real_ , smile. "That's what everyone keeps tellin' me." My eyes wander over to Carl, and I notice the group has stopped walking. He's holding Judith in his arms, starting to feed her a bottle as he sits on the trail.

"They keep sayin' it because it's true." She returns my smile with one of her own. As her eyes fall to Glenn she pulls away from me. "I need to go annoy him."

"All right." I chuckle. She then leaves me alone with my own thoughts.

I survey the group as a whole. Most I know, but we have new people that make our numbers, and group integrity, grow. Abraham, the brute force; Rosita, who can definitely hold her own in a fight; Eugene, the supposed holder to the walker-cure; Tara, strong-willed ambition clear to everyone. And Carol and Tyreese once more. Though I've seen Carol around, I haven't talked to her. I'm nervous to. With the fallout at the prison for her two human victims, I don't know what to say. She would think that I would agree with her actions. I don't.

I shrug the thoughts away. They would make me go crazy before we even made a campsite for the night. Instead, I look to Carl, who has almost fed Judith an entire bottle of formula. The feeling of butterflies erupt in my stomach. _Happiness_. I still can't believe she's back with us. Like a little miracle.

"How's she doing?" I ask him. I sit down beside him and Judith's eyes follow my sudden movement.

"Good." Carl responds, a giddiness to his voice. He sets the bottle down to his right and he begins to burp her. "She almost drank the whole bottle."

"Damn, she was hungry." I note.

"Well, she's getting bigger."

"Very true. But still." He succeeds in getting a burp out of her. He cradles her in his arms tightly once more; protectively. I understand the move. I want to do it, too.

Rick makes his way over to us, stating, "We're gonna set up camp for the night here." His eyes fall to Judith, and I notice a happy twinkle in them. It makes me smile. I haven't seen him this happy since who knows when?

"Yessir, sheriff Rick, sir." I give a lazy salute to him, which results in him sticking his tongue out at me. I give an eye roll in response. _Dork_.

Before I know it, it's dark out and we have a fire started. Since we have little to no food (only the couple cans that Tyreese and Carol had in their packs,) we don't bother to eat anything. Instead, we curl up by the fire and try to catch some shut-eye.

Carol and Daryl decide to take first watch together. I'm not surprised. Daryl wants to keep a close eye on his closest friend. And they deserved the time together. They were always very close at the prison.

As I lay in the grass, slightly dozing off, Carol sits beside me. I raise an eyebrow at her, yet don't say anything. Her hands grab her pack, and she rummages through it in what looks like no conscious thought. When she finds her desired item, she yanks it out with vigor and hands it to me. My knife.

"Where'd you-" I start, swinging to a sitting position, but she interrupts me.

"It was in one of their storage rooms, with Daryl's crossbow and Rick's watch." She explains. My hand grasps the hilt firmly, my fingers creating a perfect seal around it. The blade is still caked with blood, but I push that to the back of my mind. _I have my knife back!_

"Thank you." I say to her, grinning. I hold the knife close to me, happy to have my sacred object back.

She gives a smile back. "Don't mention it."

I slowly ease back to the ground, and she pushes herself off to move back to Daryl. My hands hold the knife close to my chest, making sure I keep the blade pointing out at an angle from me. As I get comfortable, my eyelids flutter shut and, for once, I actually get sleep.

* * *

By daybreak we're up on the road and walking through the trees. My arms are around Judith's wiggling form, my trusty knife back in its sheath. She makes cheery babble as I walk quickly to catch up to Carl, who has taken to holding the duffel bags. In the midst of my small haste, I walk right into Carol.

"Shit, sorry." I quickly muster, my eyes casting downward.

"It's fine Alyssa." She says, giving me a gentle smile. "We haven't had the chance to talk."

"No, we haven't." As I look to the rest of the group, I notice that we're all spread out from each other, all of us in little groups of two and three. Carol and I (plus Judith,) make a group of two.

"You know." It isn't a question, but a statement. "You know I killed Karen and David." I involuntarily shiver at how normal she makes it sound. I nod to her, though my eyes stay downcast to the drooling mess that is Judith.

"And?" She asks me.

"And, what?" I ask back.

"Liz," the way she says my nickname is like a plea, "please look at me."

With a deep breath, I look up to Carols face. It's nervous, but also strong. In the time she's been gone, she's created her own mask of strength. Well, I guess it isn't really a _mask_ ; it's _her_. She's grown in the short amount of time she was on her own. I'm not sure whether that's good or not.

"And, what?" I repeat, this time looking into her icy blues.

"And, do you think I did the right thing?"

 _The question I don't want_. I drop my head down again, to her dismay. "Carol..."

"I need to know." She presses. "Even if it's not the answer I agree with."

I slowly shake my head and look up at her. "No. I don't."

Though her mouth turns into a frown, she nods. I continue, "You didn't need to kill them. They could've gotten better."

"I just wanted to stop-" She interjects. I stop her.

"I know. A calculated risk that didn't pay off. Others died. A lot more. But some of us got better." I accentuate each name, "Me, Glenn, Sasha. We're fine."

She stays silent as we trek through the tall trees. "... I didn't know you and Glenn were sick."

I nod solemnly. "We were. It was shit. But we're fine now. No need to kill. It's not always the answer."

She stays silent as I put my head down again. "No more killing."

"I can't promise that. Ever."

"I know."

A rustle in the trees grabs everyone's attention, shifting the mood from calm to defensive. Everyone with a gun points to the trees, and I hid quickly behind Carol. I wouldn't normally, but it's my job to keep Judith safe if a firefight breaks out.

Our guards drop again once Daryl walks out of the woods, squirrels in hand. A good hunt.

He puts his hands out in the air, saying, "We surrender."

I roll my eyes at the hunter, and we all begin our walk once more.

Rick makes a soft whistle, gaining most of our attention. "Hey, tighten it up." He says. "Stick close."

Some give nods of understanding, and we all huddle close together. I stick close to Sasha and Bob, and I listen to their little game of, "Happy or Annoying?"

"Uh, wet socks." Sasha says, a grin on her face.

"Cool feet." Bob says smoothly.

"Mosquito bites."

"Itching reminds you you're alive."

"Danger around any corner."

"Never a dull moment."

"The hot sun beating down on you."

"Oh, come on. A glorious tan." Sasha just laughs. She, obviously, is trying to be Annoying. Bob makes the situations Happy.

As Sasha laughs, Bob says, "I said it, and I meant it!"

She continues with the Annoying aspect. "No privacy."

"Captive audience." He smirks to her, and they kiss. I notice behind them Tyreese grinning widely. His sister probably hasn't been this happy in a while. I know I haven't seen her like this since I met her.

"One more." Bob asks. She gives him another peck. "One more." She does it again.

" _HELP_!"

" _HELP! ANYBODY, HELP!_ "

Rick holds his hand up, stopping all of us from moving.

"Dad, come on!" Carl argues. The man screams loud, and I wince. Carl begs again. "Come on!"

Rick looks at war with himself. _Please_ , I think. _Don't kill this guy, Rick_.

Carl says, "Come on!" one more time to Rick, and this time he gives a nod. We all burst to a full sprint, following the sounds of a scared man. As we run, we make it to a clearing, where a man is climbing a rock, a few walkers crowding beneath him. He wears clerical clothing, as if he is from a church or something.

"Help!" He screams over and over, trying to kick one of them. "Help!"

The adults make quick work of the walkers. It isn't that hard. If I wasn't holding Judith, I could have gotten them all with my knife.

"We're clear." Rick states. "Keep watch."

I look up to the lone survivor on the rock, shaking like a child. He has dark skin, terrified brown eyes, a small goatee, and he is whimpering from fear. _Jesus, how did you even make it this far if you can't kill five walkers on your own?_ I can see that everyone else thinks the same.

"Come on down." Rick tells him. He shakily makes his way down the rock, sliding unsteadily down the side. He doesn't make any eye contact with anyone. "You okay?"

He holds up a finger, and immediately after, vomits to the ground. I groan in disgust and turn my head, my eyes meeting Carls as he wrinkles his nose in disgust. I shrug my shoulders and readjust Judith on my chest.

"Sorry." He weakly states, then makes an attempt to stand up tall. "Yes, thank you. I'm Gabriel."

Rick doesn't seem to care for the formalities. "Do you have any weapons on you?"

Gabriel gives a nervous chuckle and looks to anyone but Rick. His eyes land on mom, and she just raises an eyebrow to him.

"Do-do I look like I have any weapons?" He says, throwing out his arms.

"We don't give two short and curlies what it looks like." Abraham says, his tone gruff.

"I have no weapons of any kind." Gabriel announces. "The word of god is the only protection I need."

 _Man, are you serious?_

"Sure didn't look like it." I say, incredulous. He looks to me in confusion. I slightly turn, my knife pointing out to him. His eyes widen in shock. I roll mine.

"I-I called for help. Help came." Gabriel points out, a nervous chuckle following his words. _Jesus._ No one buys that can of bullshit.

"Do you have," he clears his throat, "have any food? Whatever I had left, it just hit the ground."

Carl holds a hand out. "We got some pecans."

Gabriel graciously takes the nuts, giving a thanks in return. Carl nods at the thanks.

Judith babbles in my arms again, and Gabriel looks to her. "That's a beautiful child."

At the words, I notice some of the others take a few steps toward me, like a shield for her. My arms tighten around her. Not that I think _he_ would do anything. He would probably trip on the way over and twist his neck the wrong way. But if he had friends watching us...

In the uncomfortable silence, he asks, "Do you have a camp?"

"No." Rick answers almost immediately. "Do you?"

"I have a church." He says. And that's the straw that broke the camels back.

"Hold your hands above your head." Rick orders, his voice firm and strong. Leader-like.

Gabriel does so, terrified. Rick pats him down, looking for a weapon anywhere. "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Ah, not any, actually." Gabriel answers.

"Turn around." Rick pulls at his shirt, twisting him backwards.

As he continues the frisk, he asks, "How many people have you killed?"

"None." The priest states, though he sounds more confused than anything. He turns his head to look back at Rick.

"Why?"

"Because The Lord abhors violence." _Jesus, a Bible-thumper in the middle of an apocalypse._

"What have you done?" Rick asks, moving close to Gabriel to give him the Death Stare. Gabriel says nothing. Rick presses on. "We've all done something."

"I am a sinner." Gabriel says, disgusted with himself. "I sin almost every day. But those sins, I confess them to god, not strangers."

Mom, as done with this as everyone else, asks, "You said you had a church?"

He nods.

"Then take us there." Rick orders.

* * *

We follow the preacher through the woods, all eyes following him wherever he steps. My patience already wear thin at his, "The words of Jesus are my protection," train of thought. If we hadn't shown up when we did, the words of _Jesus_ wouldn't have meant anything.

Rick turns to Gabriel as we walk. "Hey, earlier, were you watchin' us?"

"I keep to myself." He answers. "Nowadays, people are just as dangerous as the dead, don't you think?"

"Nah." Daryl says, his voice scratchy. "People are worse."

The priest gives a shrug. "Well, I wasn't watching you. I haven't been beyond the stream near my church more than a few times since it all started. That was the furthest I've gone before today."

"Or, maybe I'm lying." He continues, a smirk building on his face. "Maybe I'm lying about everything and there's no church ahead at all. Maybe I'm leading you into a trap so I can steal all your squirrels." He turns to Rick with his smirk, and notices the guarded looks on most of us. His grin turns to an embarrassed frown. "Members of my flock have often told me that my sense of humor leaves much to be desired."

As Rick takes a few steps towards him, he steps backwards. His face is flushed at his embarrassment.

"Yeah, it does." Daryl nods, shouldering his game from earlier today. Gabriel attempts to turn around, only to be hit in the face with a large branch full of leaves. His arms go to his face and attempts to push it out of the way, only half-succeeding. _Jesus, man. How the_ _ **hell**_ _did you make it this far?_

We eventually arrive to, "St. Sarah's Church," a little, white, and mostly untouched church that is tucked away in the tall trees. Gabriel walks to the large oak doors, intending to go inside, but Rick stops him.

"Hold up." He says. Gabriel makes a face. "Can we take a look around first? We just want to hold on to our squirrels."

I make a snicker at the joke, but turn my face away from them before they look to me. Gabriel hands Rick the key to the doors, and most of the adults head inside. I stay behind with Carl, Tyreese, Bob, and Sasha while the rest of us scope out the place.

As I stand beside Carl, I bump my hip against his. He turns to me, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing." I say, and bump him again. "Just trying to be annoying. It's in my nature."

"I noticed."

"Hey!" I stick my tongue out at him, but laugh nonetheless. "Rude."

"Yeah? And?" He challenges lightly.

"And, because you're rude, I think I'm gonna keep holding this beauty." I point to Judith in my arms as I lightly bounce her around. "I WAS going to trade you for those lovely duffel bags, buuut rudeness does not get rewarded." I stick my tongue out at him.

"And if I say sorry?"

I raise an eyebrow. "I might reconsider."

He huffs in a playful annoyance, like a child. "I'm sorry, angel. Now can I please hold my baby sister?"

I cock my head to the side, pretending to think about it. "Fine. But only because you said it _so nicely_."

He drops the bags to the ground in a heap, and I gently pass over Judith in his arms. As I grab the duffels, the adults walk back to us through the church entrance.

As they all file out, Rick in front, Gabriel says, "I spent months here without stepping out the front door. If you found someone inside, well, it would have been surprising."

"Thanks for this," Carl gives him a smile as he looks to the building.

Abraham goes to Rick, all work and no play. "We found a short bus out back. It don't run, but I bet we could fix that in less than a day or two. Father here says he doesn't want it. Looks like we found ourselves some transport." Rick says nothing back to him. "You understand what's at stake here, right?"

"Yes I do." He answers.

"Now that we can take a breath-" mom starts, but gets interrupted by Abraham.

"We take a breath, we slow down, shit inevitably goes down."

"We need supplies, no matter what we do next." I smirk at her words.

"That's right." Rick agrees with her. "Water, food, ammunition." With that, he holds his gun and hops up the stairs into the church.

"Short bus ain't goin' nowhere." Daryl adds before he follows Rick inside.

We all follow suit into the church, but before I'm even halfway through the door, I hear Glenn say, "One way or another, we do what Rick does. We're not splitting up again." And again, I smirk at my teams words.

I gasp at how clean the inside of the church is. Not a speck of dust on the pews or ground, each Bible tucked neatly into the sleeves, even the children's drawings that were tacked to a board were orderly. Not a hair out of place. My suspicion rises about 15%. No place should be this clean anymore.

As we set our bags down and rest a bit, Rick turns to Father Gabriel once more. "How'd you survive here for this long? Where'd your supplies come from?"

The priest is quiet for a moment. "Luck. Our annual canned food drive. Things fell apart right after we finished it. It was just me here. The food lasted a long time, and then I started scavenging. I've cleaned out every place nearby. Except for one."

"What kept you from it?" Rick asks, his stare going from a level one BitchFace to a level three.

"It's overrun."

"How many?"

"A dozen or so. Maybe more." _Oh, please_.

"We can handle a dozen." Rick tells him. _Easily_ , I add mentally.

"Bob and I will go with you." Sasha offers. "Tyreese should stay here, help keep Judith safe."

"That'll be okay?" He asks Tyreese.

The tall twin gives a smile. "Sure. If you ever need me to watch her, need anything for her, I'm right here."

"I'm grateful for it." Rick gives a nod of appreciation to him. "And everything else."

"I'll go too." I offer. Rick looks to me but shakes his head.

"Alyssa, you should stay here with the others. We need eyes and ears here too."

I furrow my brows in confusion. _Did you just fucking_ _ **bench**_ _me?_ "Rick, I can help-"

"I know, and I don't doubt it. But I need your help here."

I bite my tongue to refrain from saying something stupid to him. _You just benched me! Ugh._

My eyes go to the ground instead of glaring at him. I move to an empty pew space and I flop down on it, hard. I would've thought that he'd like my help, not go against it.

In the tense air, Gabriel breaks the silence. "I'll draw you a map."

"You don't need to." Rick says. "You're coming with us."

The nervousness settles back into Father Gabriel. "I-I'm not gonna be of any help. You saw me. I'm no good around those things."

"You're comin' with us." Rick states firmly, his mind settled. Gabriel just gives a shaky nod in return.

As I continue my self pity-party, most of us get to work unpacking supplies and taking inventory. We're running low on just about everything.

"Hey, scooch over." I haven't looked up yet, but I can easily tell who the owner of the voice is.

I don't say anything back to her, but I do move myself over and allow her some room to sit. "Do you wanna do the awkward, 'you wanna talk about it?' speech, or do you wanna skip that part?"

"I'd rather not talk about it, period." I say in a huff.

"C'mon, Liz. You know we're not gonna do that." Mom says gently.

"Fine. Skip it."

"Then I'm gonna say, you're acting pretty stupid."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks, mom. Just the words I want to hear."

"Can you hear me out first?"

"What's there to hear about?" I finally look at her, but she isn't angry at me. Instead, her warm brown eyes are comforting and soft, and there's a light smile on her lips. "Rick won't let me go on a run. Simple as that."

"And do you know why?" She asks patiently.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. Because I'm only a kid or somethin'?"

"No, nothing like that. He knows you can take care of yourself, just like anyone else in this group." She tells me firmly. "He sees you as an equal, I can easily say. You're just like Glenn or Daryl or even me. You're valued, trust me."

I give a small nod to the words. "But then... Why won't he let me go?"

Her hand glides over my own, holding it gently. "Because he's scared for you."

"What?" I frown, confused.

"It was only two days ago that you got those bruises on your sides." She says, her voice going quiet. "And that we were all stuck in a shit situation."

"... Oh..."

"Yeah." Her hand squeezes mine tightly. "Do you know how hard it was for me to stay in place? The last thing I wanted to do was sit there while that... Pervert was hovering over you. Rick went through the same thing, you know. Wanting to do something for you but he couldn't. So, it's only natural that he wouldn't want you out just yet. If I'm being honest, I don't either."

"Mom..."

"Before you say you can take care of yourself, I _know_ you can. Call it an irrational fear or whatever, but it's how I feel."

"No, I get it." I wrap my arms around her tightly and hug her ferociously. "I'm sorry I was being stupid."

"It's okay." I can hear the smirk in her voice. "Just know that I'm not letting you out of my sight for at least a month."

I laugh. "Okay, mom. Whatever you say."

She rests her hands on my arms and pulls away, looking at me with a large smile.

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"I just... I'm lucky I found you." She says earnestly.

" _I'm_ lucky you found me, too." I grin back at her.

"Hey everyone. We're heading out now." Rick announces to all of us. "We'll be back before dusk."

"I'm gonna go with him." Mom tells me. I nod in agreement.

"Hey, wait up." She calls to him as he walks to the door. She and I both get up and head to him and his little group. "I'm coming too."

He nods to her, his signal of approval.

"Hey." I get his attention, and I wrap my arms around him. His go around me in response. "Don't die out there, okay?"

As I pull away, Rick says, "I haven't died yet."

"You better keep that streak." I say with a small grin. He just nods back. And the mini group sets off to go get more food.

We all get up and continue to unpack our little amounts of supplies. Carol and Daryl, after noticing how low we are on water, offer to go scavenging a little bit, maybe fill up some jugs of water if they're lucky. They leave, taking four empty jugs with them.

Maggie, Glenn, and Tara say they're ready to go out for a little bit, saying that Tara found a gun shop in a phone book. She also tells me that it is unlikely that they'd find anything there, but it was worth a shot. So the three of them set off for a journey of their own. Abraham went outside earlier, messing around with the short bus. Trying to get it to work. Tyreese is inside, holding Judith. He's lightly rocking her around, humming to her, trying to get her to sleep. Carl gave her up a little while to go so he could go outside and look around. And, here I am, bored out of my damn mind. I had a thought of asking to go with Glenn, Maggie, and Tara, but then I got a twitch of guilt from what mom said earlier.

I let my feet bring me outside the church, looking for Carl instead. She said she didn't want me on a run, but she never said I couldn't go outside.

I find him staring intently at a window of the church, running his hand along the edge of it.

"You look like shit, Sherlock." I say as I make my way towards him. I take note that he isn't wearing the sheriffs hat atop his head.

"Yeah, well, no sleep and a beating does that to you." He answers, dropping his hand from the window. I hum in response.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" I ask, my eyes moving toward the window.

"Scratches." He points to the bottom right edge of the frame, and he's right; there are deep, angry marks.

"So? Walkers can scratch." I shrug my shoulders.

"Not like this." He shakes his head. "These ones are deep. Like knives or something. There was a lot more force than just nails."

I move closer to it and look harder this time. It's true. Walkers wouldn't scrape so deep into the wood. They couldn't splinter like this. And these marks are all around the frame, not just the corner.

"Shit." I breathe out. _What does this mean?_

"Yeah. He's hiding something after all." Carl bows his head. He really did want to trust Father Gabriel.

"We're all hiding something, Carl. Doesn't mean he's a bad person." I try to lift his spirits up. "For all we know, it could have been those Claimer guys trying to break in."

He nods, but doesn't say anything to me.

"C'mon, cowboy." I say, and move closer to him. "There's more than just bad people in this world."

"I know." He says to me, looking up at my face. "I was just hoping we would find someone good."

"We will." I sound so sure of it, even though my thoughts about it aren't as strong. "We found Tara, right? She's good. And Abraham, Rosita, Eugene."

"Yeah, but we found Terminus, too."

"And guess what? Without that shitstorm, we wouldn't have found Maggie and Glenn, or Sasha and Bob. Hell, we wouldn't have even found Carol or Tyreese or Judith. With bad comes good, hand in hand."

He mulls over in his thoughts, thinking. I place a gentle hand on his cheek, my thumb lightly ghosting over his black and blue eye. He winces at the motion.

"Sorry." I apologize at the pain. I bring his head down to my level and press a long kiss on the bruise. "See? Bad and good."

He gives a smirk at my actions. "Fine." He brings a hand to rest on my shoulder, and it's my turn to wince.

"What?" He asks.

"I'm pretty sure I have a cut there." I answer. "From a few days ago."

His hand gently and slowly pushes the cloth of my shirt away from my shoulder, exposing my skin and bra strap. My breath picks up as he runs his thumb along the length of the cut, which goes from my shoulder to the middle of my collarbone, underneath the shirt. His eyes look to mine before he brings his head down, planting a kiss on the red line. I gasp as he kisses my skin again, this time closer to the line of my shirt. _Jesus_ , I think. My brain goes foggy as he presses another kiss to my skin, moving the shirt a little to reach more of the cut. I move my head back, allowing him more room.

The kisses are cut short as we hear rattling down the street. He pulls his head away from my shoulder, and I quickly push my shirt back into place. I try to get my breathing under control as I notice Rick and the others pushing large carts of food into the clearing.

"I'm gonna go..." I point over to them and he nods in agreement.

"Yeah, okay." He pants out. "I'm gonna- church."

I laugh a little as he scurries away, and I make a light jog to get to the others.

"Looks like you guys were lucky." I pant out. Now I can blame my breathing problems on the run, along with the blush that adorns my cheeks.

* * *

So. Much. Food.

We feast like kings now. These three whole carts of food could last us a good, long while. A month, at least.

I'm sitting next to Glenn in a pew, my legs bent comfortingly and me gently resting against his side, each of us holding a hearty plate and eating to our hearts content. My ears are filled with relaxing sounds of conversation around me, all of which are happy. Glenn tells me of how his run to the gun shop was actually worth it. They managed to find some silencers and a few rounds for a .22 Magnum. I say what a great find that is, especially since gun stores are normally wiped clean nowadays.

"I'd like to propose a toast." Abraham announces to all of us. I look over to the red head, standing near the food table and holding a beer in his hand. "I look around this room," he starts, "and I see survivors. Each and every one of you has earned that title." He raises his can up and shouts, "To the survivors!"

"Survivors!" We all shout back. We all raise our glasses and cans up, clinking those nearest to us. I clink my glass against Glenn's before taking a long swig of my water.

"Is that all you want to be?" He asks. _Ugh, I should have known he wouldn't stop there._ I swear, this man lives and breathes Washington DC.

 _Abraham, what's your favorite vacation spot?_ _ **Washington DC.**_ _Abraham, what's your favorite color?_ _ **Washington DC.**_ _Abraham, which pair of underwear is your favorite?_ _ **WASHINGTON DC**_ **.**

"Wake up in the mornin', fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night with two eyes open, rinse and repeat?" He asks all of us. "'Cause you can do that. I mean, you got the strength. You got the skill. The thing is, for you people, for what you _can_ do, that's just surrender. Now, we can get Eugene to Washington and he will make the dead die and the living will have this world again. And that is _not_ a bad takeaway for a little road trip. Eugene, what's in DC?"

The mullet-haired scientist stands up shakily from his spot on the ground. "Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics even of this fun at magnitude. That means food, fuel, refuge. Restart."

Abraham nods to the words. "However this plays out, however long it takes for the reset button to kick in, you can be safe there. Safer than you've been since this whole thing started. Come with us. Save the world for that little one." Eyes go to Judith, who's resting on Ricks chest. "Save it for yourselves. Save it for the people out there... Who don't got nothin' left to do except survive."

I look to Bob and Sasha, both of whom are nodding to the proposition. Daryl looks to the ground, but I have no idea what goes on in his head. The same thing goes with Carol and Tara. Tyreese, sitting next to Rick, smiles at the proposition. Judith babbles to Rick in the silence.

"What was that?" Rick asks his daughter. She coos again to him. He turns over to Tyresse, smiling. "I think she knows what I'm about to say."

"She's in." He laughs to her. "If she's in, I'm in. We're in!" I laugh at his dadliness. Cheers of agreement follow his answer, along with claps.

"You know, I've never seen the Lincoln Memorial." I tell Glenn. "Maybe I'll finally get to visit."

He grins at my statement. "It's awesome there. I've been a couple times; once on a family trip and another for school."

I lightly shove his shoulder with mine. "Evil!"

"I also got to tour the Smithsonian."

"Now you're just rubbing it in my face."

"And the Vietnam Memorial Wall."

"Seriously, Glenn, I'm gonna punch you."

I hold my fist up and shake it dramatically. He laughs at my antics.

"Come on. I'm sure you've been places before, right?" He asks.

"Nah." I shake my head. "Didn't have the money. Or the time. But, I did get free fries from my moms diner. And cake. But they didn't know about the cake."

He laughs again. I nod, closing my eyes. "And it was damn good cake."

As I open them, I notice Bob exiting through the front door of the church. I raise an eyebrow but don't move from my spot.

"What kind?"

"Well, normally it was just chocolate cake with buttercream frosting. All homemade. And vanilla with buttercream. They did death by chocolate all the time. And strawberry shortcake too."

"Yeah? What was your favorite?"

I gasp in disgust. "Asking me my favorite cake is like asking a mom who their favorite child is! I'm shocked and appalled, Glenn Rhee."

"Okay, okay." He puts his plate down and holds his hands up in surrender. "Jesus, I didn't realize they were that good."

"Oh, they were." I keep my eyes on the door of the church, but I didn't notice Bob coming back yet.

As I steal a cashew from Glenn's plate, I stand up. "I'm gonna go check up on Bob. I'll be back."

"Okay." He nods to me. "When you come back you _need_ to tell me exactly how good these cakes were."

"In explicit detail." I agree. "They had pies too."

"Mmm, pies."

I laugh and head out the front door, making sure to make as minimal noise as possible.

As I look around, I don't see him anywhere. "Bob?" I call out, trying to be quiet.

I take a few steps further out, my eyes searching through the dark for his tall figure. "Bob? Where'd you go?"

I head over to a large tree to the left of the church door, looking around it. I find a large gash pulled through it, high up. I can't even reach it. _What the hell?_

And, suddenly, the back of my head explodes in pain. The feeling is so sudden and so harsh that I don't even realize what's happened until my mind goes blank and I don't see anything at all.

* * *

 _A/N: Hope you guys liked this! I'm pretty proud of it, even though it took forever to write. I hope they Carl/Alyssa kisses made up for that ;) Plus, I love writing Big Brother Glenn scenes. Also, I'm going to be writing a Fear the Walking Dead fanfiction too, if some of you are up for that. It's a Nick/OC. Just thought you would like to know._


	3. Chapter 3: Screw Cannibals

_A/N: Hello world and all who inhabit it! Yet again, please don't kill me for getting this out so late. I'm hoping to get an ATUAL schedule for chapters, just know that this time I have a good excuse for getting this out late! I went to Vermont for a week with NO access to my Netflix, so it was physically impossible for me to do this. Buut, now that I'm back I'll (hopefully,) get back on track!_

 _Here you guys go!_

* * *

 _"You know, bears... When they start to starve, they eat their young. If the bear dies, the cub does anyway. But if the bear lives, they can always have another cub."  
_

 _What the fuck? What am I hearing?  
_

 _"That was part of the pitch." What pitch? Who are you?  
_

My head throbs painfully. I can't open my eyes, the pain is just too much, but I can hear voices. Most are muffled, quiet. Like whispers. I can hear chewing, lots of it. It sounds like meat, or something tough. Then, there's one voice that rings out above the rest. _Who are you? Why do I know you?_

 _"I like women better. Most of us do. My brother Alex has- also currently DEAD because of Rick- had a theory that it was because of the extra layer of fat that women have. You know, for childbearing. Even the skinny girls have it. Like that pretty one... Sasha?"  
_

 _Sasha? How do you know Sasha?_

Then my memories coming flashing back to me. The dinner, Abrahams speech, Bob walking out of the church. I remember the slash that I saw in the tree bark, then the smash of something hard against the back of my head.

 _"I think pretty people taste better too_."

I groan, and a wave of pain shoots through my head. I slowly open my eyes, taking a look around me. Everything is a blur of colors, and the only thing I can make out is a fire to my right.

"Oh, you're awake." I can hear Gareth somewhere to my left, and I lean to the voice. My head bumps against something hard. Bob's shoulder. "Do I need to repeat my speech, or do you get the gist of it?"

I wrinkle my nose in disgust as the blobs of color form in front of me. "I got most of it." I try to move my hands, but they're bound together by rope around the pole my back is against. "You know, I really hate being taken prisoner. Kinda just ruins my day."

Gareth, as he takes a bite of some piece of meat, gives a dry chuckle. "Yeah, well, Rick and your group killing my brother kinda ruins mine."

I pull against the restraints, seeing if I can jiggle at all. I can't, and huff in annoyance.

"You're not getting out." Gareth tells me. "We're pretty good at what we do. And that includes keeping our prisoners detained."

"Asshole." I mutter under my breath.

"Hey, I'm just being civil here. I'm talking to you, not just killing you." He shrugs his shoulders. I look around him, trying to map out where we are. I see a red brick building behind him, plenty of walkers trapped inside. I can faintly hear them groaning as they push against the glass. There's people hanging out by the fire, seven, I count, not including Gareth. Though there could be more hiding, keeping an eye on us at the church.

My heart stings as I think about the feast we were having. My initial thought is, _Mom's gonna killlll me._ I shake it off, though. My worry won't help me here. I need to keep a level head, or there's no way Bob and I can escape.

My eyes go back to the group, and I look at the fire. Above it, resting on a chunk of an old shopping cart, is a leg. I gasp at it and gag at the sight. _Bob's leg. Shit_. And as my eyes roam around the men of the group, I realize they're _eating it._ Ugh. And then I think, _Why didn't you get me_?

"Bob?" My voice catches in my throat. I twist my neck to look at him and sure enough, only his left thigh remains attached from the original whole. His whimpers of pain rip through me like a chainsaw.

"As you can tell, we didn't get you." Gareth starts. "Yet. We're gonna get all of you. But for starters, Bob will do just fine. We did a good job on his leg. We've had practice. When we started, it was about making this slow."

Through Gareth's words, Bob continues to sob. Or, so I think. I can't tell if he's crying or laughing. Maybe both?

Gareth just shakes his head in disappointment. "I'm being a human being here. I'm talking to you. Perspective, Bob. You're above ground. At least you're better off than them."

And then, I hear laughing, clear as a bell. Straight from Bob. I turn as well as I can to look at him as his laughs grow louder and more uncontrolled.

"Well, he lost it." One of the henchmen say. They all stand and move to Gareth so they can get a good look at their meal losing his mind.

"Bob?" I ask, and push my shoulder against his. He doesn't seem to notice, or he doesn't care. His shrill laughs continue.

"He lasted longer than I thought he would." Another henchmen says, taking a big chunk out of their hunk of Bob-ecue. _Oh god. I feel like shit for making that pun.  
_

"You..." He continues to laugh as he looks to Gareth and his posse. "Idiots!"

"Okay, keep it down." Gareth just rolls his eyes.

Bob grabs at his shoulder, pulling down the cloth from his shirt and jacket. Though I don't see all of it, I can see the teeth marks and the blood that stains the chocolate skin. "I've been bitten, you stupid pricks! I'm tainted meat."

He laughs at the phrase. My heart drops for him. All of the Termites groan in disgust. The meat in their hands is immediately dropped and many turn their heads so they can puke what they ate. The smell of barf enters my nostrils, and it takes what willpower I have left to not do the same.

"I'm tainted meat!" He giggles uncontrollably. The group around him stares at him in disgust. " _Tainted_ _meat_!"

"Let's just kill him now." One of them suggests, yanking out a knife from his sheath.

"No no, we need him." Gareth pushes against the guy, keeping him at a safe distance from Bob.

"We might as well be eating one of them!" The Termite yells out.

"What the hell's gonna happen?!" One of them, younger than most, seems to be in the midst of a panic attack. "Are we gonna turn? Are we just gonna die?"

"Albert, calm the hell down. We cooked him!" Gareth tries to reason, though he's barely heard over Bobs insistent laughing. "Everything is gonna be fine."

"Why the hell didn't you check him first?!" One asks.

"'Cause he was fine!"

"TAINTED MEAT!" Bob yells out.

"Shut up." Gareth says. I pull against the restraints, though it's useless. They did well.

" _YOU'RE EATING TAINTED MEAT!_ "

"I said shut up!" And with the yell, Gareth kicks Bob in the face. I yelp in surprise as Bob lands in front of me, his back resting against my legs. I lean forward, taking a look at him. He's knocked out cold.

"Grab him." Gareth tells to his henchmen. Two, though seemingly unwilling helpers, grab Bob off the ground.

"What're you gonna do with him?" I ask quickly, my voice shaking.

"Teach your little friends at the church a lesson." Gareth grins at his words.

* * *

Back at the church, many are in a state of panic. _Four people missing_. Daryl, Carol, Alyssa, Bob. Michonne and Sasha, heavily armed, scope out the front of the church while Rick, Glenn, and Maggie search through the back. They come up empty handed.

Though Michonne is freaking out, Rick keeps a level head. If the situation wasn't as dire, he might've laughed. Apparently, Alyssa can't go two whole days without being in some form of captivity.

As he and his posse travel to the front, Sasha and Michonne tell him that there was someone watching the group. Sasha seems keen on following them.

Though it hurts for her to say it, Michonne says, "We can't follow him." She knows that blindly going after the four of them wouldn't end well.

"Bob and Alyssa are out there somewhere. Alone, scared. They need us!" Sasha argues, her heart rate going a million miles an hour.

"If we leave now, some of us aren't coming back." Glenn says calmly. "We don't know how many people there are, or how they're armed. It's a suicide mission."

"Glenn's right." Rick agrees. "We need to get our heads together, think of somethin'."

Though she wants to run right through the bushes to follow that scout, Sasha gives a shaky nod. "Fine. Anyone else missing?"

As they walk to the church, he answers. "Just the four."

This is not how the group wanted to start their first night at the church. No one in the team wants Sasha to yell at Father Gabriel, saying how he's a traitor. How he has spies watching them. No one wants to hear him break down, crying that he locked his doors at night, letting hundreds of innocent people die in the first few days of the apocalypse. No one wants to know he is as good as a killer, just like the rest of them.

And no one wants to see Bob being left in the dirt at the front of the church, one calf cut off and bleeding. Nor do they want to see the large chunk of skin missing from his shoulder.

* * *

My head is spinning, mapping out a dozen ways to try to escape. They all end with me dead.

I tug against the restraints on my hands for what feels like the billionth time. There's no way I'm getting out of them, but it's the one thing I have in my power to do. Gareth sits in front of me, relaxing beside the fire. Every time he hears me tug against the ropes, his response is automatic. "You're not going anywhere. Don't even try."

"Asshole." I growl in response. I search around the group, but none of them (besides Gareth,) even bother to look at me. They're all worried about their infectious dinner.

"You really don't understand the term, 'civil,' do you?" He cocks his head to the side, giving me a thoughtful-yet-annoyed look.

"Oh, it's in my vocabulary. Right next to, 'fuck you,' and, 'I don't give a rats ass.'"

His brows raise in surprise and he gives me a respectful nod. "I didn't think you'd be so fiesty. Hell, I thought you'd crack down the second you saw Bob legless."

"It takes a lot to scare me." I challenge, though inwardly I'm screaming. I hope he doesn't notice my bravado.

"How about this to scare you?" He stands up from the fire, moving over to me. "We drop Bob off with your friends. He tells them everything he knows. They all run here to save you. Meanwhile, five of us go to the church. We pick off the weak ones they left behind. The priest, the baby, the mullet guy, your little boyfriend?" I glare up at him, but all he does in response is smile. "We kill them first. The three of us that stay here? We wait until your people show up. We kill you in front of them, and we kill them, too. All of our problems go bye-bye."

My eyes drop to the ground, and my heavy pants pick up. He continues, "The second my buddies come back from dropping Bob off, that plan gets put into effect. And we know how _noble_ your friends are. They'd want to get you first before killing us. That puts them right in the crossfire."

I clench my jaw tight at his words. It's an air-tight plan. We always go after our own.

Instead of giving in to the spiral of despair that he wants me to be in, I look up to him. My scowl slowly twists into a crazed smirk. "You think you have it all planned out, don't you?"

"Well, I don't mean to brag, but we've followed your posse everywhere. We know what to expect."

I give a shake of my head, and a laugh escapes my throat. "You don't know SHIT."

Just then, two men erupt from the forest, panting heavily. They are the ones that brought Bob back to my family.

"I think this is my cue to exit." Gareth gives a wry smile to me. He goes to my left and grabs a rifle. Four of his looney friends follow suit. As he grabs a magazine, he looks to me as he clicks it in. "Let's see how much shit I know."

I don't say anything. Instead, I glare at him and his group as he leaves me and three of his people behind. I listen to the sound of their footsteps through the forest, though there's not many. They understand stealth well. And that's what worries me.

* * *

Once the five of them leave, the rest of us are silent. I wouldn't be surprised if we could hear a pin dropping 20 miles away. Either these three don't care to talk or their tongues are cut out.

I think about my group. If what Gareth told me was true, then they'll all be on shit-city soon. It feels like Gareth and his Termites left about an hour ago, though I can't really tell. I can't hear anything around me, so I take it as a good sign. That maybe my group hasn't been touched yet.

My mind goes back to planning. I can't leave my spot. Not on my own. I don't have any weapons on me. Before I was captured, my knife rested in its sheath. Now, I see it in the hands of the goon closest to me. He's cleaned the blood off of it, and it almost shines in the campfire light.

I draw a blank in my escape plans. Instead, I quietly hum to myself to soothe my nerves. I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose, all the while humming, "Highway to Hell," from ACDC.

"Shut up." A girl, sitting a few feet away from the campfire tells me.

"Why?" I ask, grinning. _This is how I piss them off_.

"Because I don't need to hear you. I need to hear people running." She says. Her voice is gravely and scratchy; the sound of a smoker for who knows how long.

"But I want to hum." I say again, this time humming, "Under Pressure," by Queen, just a teeny bit louder than I was before.

She rolls her eyes. "Shut. Up. Stupid little kid."

"Oh, I'm not stupid." I grin again. "I just have selective hearing."

My humming gets louder as I switch to, "Mr. Tambourine Man," by Bob Dylan. One of the other Termites groan as the girl huffs and walks away from me in response.

I pout to her. "Oh, you're no fun." She gives me the middle finger in response.

I sarcastically go, "Oh, ouch. The pain! The misery! All because I want a little background music. Seems a bit too harsh of a response, doesn't it?"

The one holding my knife seems done with my antics. With a growl, he grabs a handgun from his holster.

"Do you see this?" He growls the clenched teeth. "Do you fucking see this?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I think my answer is a yes."

"This is a .44 Magnum, and right now there's four bullets in it. Unless you want one of them in your skull, I suggest you shut your _goddamn_ mouth."

"You're not gonna shoot me." I say, sweetly smiling to him. He looks like he wants to break my arms. "You need me, don't you?"

"Doesn't mean we need you ALIVE."

This shuts me up. Or, so they think. Now I play the part of a hurt victim. The smile drops from my face and I look to the dirt on the ground. "Fine." I whisper out. "You win." I don't look up to see the grin on his face, which is undoubtedly there. I hear the sound of the gun being put back in the holster, and I pretend to give a breath of relief.

I stay quiet for a few minutes, allowing them faux peace. I want them to be just the right amount of annoyed. Not too much, not too less.

When I deem it safe enough to talk, I whine out, "I need to pee."

The statement earns groans from all three of them.

"OhmyGOD, kid."

"Are you serious?!"

"You gotta be kidding me!"

I give a sheepish smile to them. "Sorry. I don't _want_ to, but I _need_ to."

"Sucks to be you." The girl tells me. "We're not moving you. No way in hell."

"Only for three seconds!" I whine again. "What could I possibly do in three seconds?"

"Oh, after all that big talk to Gareth earlier?" She counters. "You seem capable to me."

I shrug my head. "It was all a bluff. At least about me. Seriously. I have no weapons, no one to help me. My hands are tied behind my back! What could I do like this?" My voice comes out desperate, exactly what I want them to think.

"Shut the fuck up. We're not letting you." The one with my knife claims. The others agree with him.

"Please?" They all shake their heads. I gulp audibly, and think quickly. _I need to get out of here somehow._

And I look to my legs. "I mean, if you guys won't move me, I guess I could just go here."

I hear them all, "ewww!" at my statement. _Perfect._

"Well, if you guys won't let me pee out there then where else would I?" I counter. "Which means I'll stink up my spot. You'll all have to deal with the smell of piss for the night. Sound like fun to you?"

The girl gives a look to each of the boys. With a grumble, she points to the one holding my knife. "Untie her. Let her go near the trees."

He gives an audible huff of anger to her, but does as he's told. He cuts my restraints that hold me to the pole, but quickly ties my hands with new rope in front of me, giving himself a long strip of it. Like it's a leash. _Ugh_.

Once my restraints are deemed tight enough to him, he tugs on his strip harshly. "Come on."

I pretend to trip over my own two feet as I struggle to follow him. He pulls me along to a small part of the forest, concealed from the eyes of the others. The second we're out of the sight from the two Termites, the second part of my plan is put into effect. As he keeps walking us further and further, I talk quietly.

"I love the forest at night, don't you?" I aim my question at him, but I look to my knife that hangs loosely in his sheath.

"Shut up." He answers, which is the response I expected from him. It doesn't matter, though. All I need to do is distract him.

"No? Yes? I always enjoyed the way the moonlights shines through the leaves on top of the trees. It felt magical to me as a kid." I babble on, looking around his hip to the Magnum on the other side of him. "I mean, nowadays I'm more worried about the walkers that may or may not be in the dark, but still. The moonlight is super pretty."

He tugged me closer to him by the rope, angrily grabbing my wrist with his right fist. He hisses to me, "Do you WANT the biters to know we're here?!"

I shrug my shoulders and bite my bottom lip. "No..."

"Then shut up and keep moving." He lets my wrist go and drops the excess rope, turning. My heartbeat springs out of my chest as I realize, _This is the moment_.

"I want to distract you!" I bring both my fists up and connect them to his jaw, stunning him for a brief moment. The impact hurts my hands, but I don't stop my onslaught.

He drops my leash, hands automatically going up to his face to protect himself from another blow. But that's not where I aim next. Instead, I take my elbows as one entity and bring them to his neck, pushing him down to the ground. He quickly gasps for air and his hands try to pull me away, but my hands go to replace my elbows. They now dig into his ribcage. He wiggles beneath me, trying to get away. His legs move out in desperation to kick me, but I knee him in the gut.

I keep my hands around his neck with all my might. I hear him gasping and attempting to call out for his friends.

"Shuuuuut thefuckup." I hiss in his ear. In his desperation to get out from under me, my knife falls out of his sheath and onto the grass beside him. In what feels like a millisecond, I take my hands from his neck and grab the blade. He takes one last big gulp of air, and I stab my new weapon into his neck. His gulp turns in a wet gargle, and I look away from him. His body wriggles for only a few more seconds before it goes limp. When I turn back, his eyes are glassy and his mouth is drooling with blood.

I pant heavily, my breaths short and desperate after my kick of adrenaline. _It worked_!

As I lie on the ground beside his corpse, I set the knife on the ground and quickly push my rope back and forth against it, slowly but surely cutting the rope off my right hand. With my free hand, I pull at the knot on my right to untie it, and I'm finally free.

I weakly grab for the Termites .44 Magnum. I quickly open the chamber, expecting to see the four bullets he promised inside of it. I only find one.

"Shit!" I whisper to myself. I need at least two.

I grumble angrily as I close the chamber and put the single bullet into it. Standing up shakily, I take the weapons with me and begin to retrace the steps back to the camp, hoping somehow that this plan works in my favor.

When I find the school again, I hide against the wall and scoot to the corner. I look quickly to the two Termites left. The girl and guy seem antsy, but they're looking to the left of the campfire, not the right where I'm hidden. Then I hear it. The sounds of screaming in the distance. My heartbeat picks up, but then relaxes as I realize I don't hear any of my group. These screams are all foreign to me. _They lost_.

I switch the safety off on the gun and aim it at the man's head, and pull the trigger. The shot sounds defeating in my ears.

I quickly pull back against the wall and breathe heavily. _What the fuck_? I think to myself. _That's the one shot I had_.

I drop the gun and yank out my knife, holding it close to my side. The last Termite standing will come for me, most likely shooting at me. _And all I have is my fucking knife._

I prepare myself to hear the sound of oncoming bullets from her rifle. I can already hear her angry steps in my direction, and the angry growl as she pulls up the rifle to aim. I close my eyes, breathing deeply as I await her gun.

But it never comes. I only hear the sound of a single silenced bullet, and a body hitting the ground heavily.

I crack an eye open, looking quickly to the woods in front of me. _Nothing. What_? So I turn to look at the small camp from my spot. The Termite is dead.

Confused, I look up from her body. And I grin. Through the trees, I see three people. Glenn, Maggie, and Tara.

"Glenn?" I gasp. "Maggie?"

I set the knife in my sheath and run to them across the courtyard. My arms go around Glenn the second I get to them, and he returns the gesture. Maggie's arms follow suit, holding me tight.

"Are you okay?" Glenn asks, looking down to me, pure concern in his brown eyes. I give a small, barely-there smile and nod.

"I am now." My grip tightens around his figure, and he does the same to me.

* * *

When we return to the group, many are already outside, moving the bodies of the Termites out to be burned. All of them are grotesque and broken. I don't even recognize Gareth anymore. All he is now is a pile of bloody mush.

"Mom?" The second I see her in the doorway, I run to her. "Mom!"

Her eyes light up as they see me, and relief fills her features. She runs to me too, and at the first step of the church we meet each other. I hug her as tightly as I physically can, just like she's doing to me.

"What part of, 'I'm not letting you out of my sight,' do you not understand?!" She says to me, pulling away for a nanosecond to kiss my cheek.

"Apparently all of it." I admit.

"You're grounded." She says, pulling me in tight again. "Forever."

I laugh at her comment. "Okay, mom."

When we break apart (and it's not easy to,) we go back to the others and help them with the rest of the bodies. Come morning, the bodies are burned and some supplies are packed for Abraham's journey to get Eugene to DC. Though I wasn't there for the discussion of said journey, Glenn pulled me aside from the group this morning to explain to me that he and Maggie are going with them. They were part of the deal that the ginger made with Rick.

"No." I say, refusing to believe it. "No, you two can't go-"

"I'm sorry, Alyssa." He interrupts. "But we're going. We have to."

I clamp my mouth shut, my brain going a thousand miles a minute. I don't trust my mouth, so instead I give him another death-grip hug like last night.

"Don't die out there." I tell him, my voice cracking. "Don't you dare die on us."

"I won't. I promise." He answers, sounding so sure of it. I'm reluctant to let go, but I do and we head to the others.

The next thing on the groups list is to say our goodbyes to Bob. We all crowd around him, saying how good of a person he is and how we'll all miss him. And all of this is true. He is a good man, and he doesn't deserve this.

I don't know him much, so I settle for standing in the back of the group with Carl and giving Bob a strong nod while those closest to him paid their respects. And when his time comes, we all go outside to help dig his grave.

Sasha, when she was ready to come out, insisted on her digging the rest of it and making his cross, so we go inside to grab the supplies for the Abraham and Co. group. He and Rosita go around the church to grab their short bus.

When it's around front, Abraham gives Rick a map. "This is our route to DC. We'll stick to it as long and we're able. If not, well, you got our destination. Once Eugene gets to the big brains left up there, things are gonna bounce back. This group should be there for it. You should be there for it."

"They will be." Maggie says, giving a sweet smile to Rick and mom.

"We will." Mom nods.

Rick looks to her and smiles at the words. "We will."

Abraham nods to the words before turning to his bus. "Let's go."

Eugene, Rosita, Maggie, and Glenn all hop into the back of the bus, and Abraham to the drivers seat. The rest of our group looks to them, attempting to look happy for the departures but we all look solemn. And when the bus drives away, I look down to the dirt beneath my feet. I don't want to see my friends leaving me. The thought of them being gone already crushes my heart.

I feel a light kick against my shoe, and I look back up to see Carl.

"You okay?" He asks, his voice quiet. I look back to the short bus, already halfway down the dirt street.

"No, I'm not." I answer truthfully. His hand grabs mine and holds it tightly. I return the grip.

"Me neither."

* * *

 _A/N: Yay, another chapter done! Feel free to tell me what you guys think about it! Reviews and PMs are always welcome here._


	4. Chapter 4: Siren Song

_A/N: Hello everyone! I have bad news :'( I go back to school on Tuesday. That means I need to focus on all my senior year work, such as: senior project for my shop, looking at and applying to colleges, getting my license, not dying, and going to prom._

 _Jeebus help my soul. So, fanfiction is (sadly,) going to be in the back of my mind. I have one more chapter planned out to post, but my updates are going to be slow (as if I'm not slow enough.) I'm sorry! I'll try to regularly update, but that's probably not going to happen. But, in lighter news, this chapter and the next one are the mid season finale of season 5! I'm super excited to write about Alexandria. I have a lot of stuff planned for that._

* * *

Come night time, the rest of us that remain are lying on the ground, attempting to get some shut-eye. Sasha gets the couch in Father Gabriel's office, the last place Bob was ever at. We're all keeping a close eye on her. Since his passing this morning, she's become reclusive and violent. We expected her outbursts, though. She deserves a few.

I lie on the cold ground beside the alter, the candlelight dancing in a light breeze. My knife is held tightly against my chest as I survey the room. Rick is sitting at a pew, feeding Judith from a bottle. Mom went outside earlier on watch; Gabriel followed suit. The rest of us are scattered on the ground trying to get at least a few hours of sleep. Small, quiet chatter fills the silence, along with some clanging of a spoon against cans and jars. I shut my eyelids tight, as if the action would help me. I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight.

I hear the sound of a body plopping to the floor close beside me. I open my eyes, but the body is behind. The person's hands slowly move to hold me tightly as it goes around my waist. Carl.

I feel his body press against my back, and I lean into him. My hand reaches for his at my hip, entwining our fingers together.

"You need to sleep." He whispers in my ear. I gently push my head back to tuck comfortably beneath his chin before answering.

"Tell me something I don't know." I reply, closing my eyes once more.

"You can put your knife down." He says. My grip on it tightens.

"I feel safer with it," is all I say.

"I'm not saying you don't need it." He tells me, his tone understanding and soothing. His hand leaves mine from my hip and it goes to the hilt of my knife, holding it along with the other hand. "But you don't need to hold it like this. If you put it in the sheath, you'll still be fine. I promise."

At his words, I look down to the blade and contemplate them. I take a deep breath, but slowly put it to my side. I slide the knife in the sheath and bring my hand back to his.

"Better?" I ask. I feel him nod his head.

"Better." He agrees. We sit together in silence, just like the rest of our group. My eyes look up to the candlelight, watching the flickers of light create shadows against the walls. With surprise, I realize my eyelids are getting heavier. My breathing slows down, and my grip on Carls' hand loosens. His, however, still holds mine tight.

"Do you ever think what would've happened if you didn't stop at the prison?" He asks out of the blue. His voice is raspy, with the promise of sleep seeping through each word.

I twist through his grip on my waist to be face to face with him. My hand goes to his face, gently pushing back long, dark strands of hair out of his face. "No," I answer. "But life would be a hell of a lot more boring." I drop my arm to his waist, pulling myself closer to him.

He gives a light chuckle. I can feel his breath hot on my face. "Well, think about it. The baby food, the Governor, Glenn and Maggie at Woodbury."

I give a small nod to him. "Yeah, I remember. And at the gates mom passed out and you and Rick saved us."

He hums in response. "It feels so long since then."

"Like a lifetime." I agree.

"Ah, how long ago was it?"

I rack my brain to remember. "Around a year? Maybe more? I don't know, I don't have a pocket calendar."

"Dude, does that mean we have a one year anniversary?"

I giggle at the thought. "Well, I'm sorry to be the worlds worst girlfriend, but I didn't buy you a present."

"Oh, that's a deal breaker."

"Really?"

"Really really."

"Damn then. Did _you_ get me anything?"

"That's besides the point."

I laugh at him and playfully smack his side. "If I'm the Worlds Worst Girlfriend, then that makes you the Worlds Worst Boyfriend, too!"

At my words, he gives me a playful smack to the side back. "That's not how this works!"

"Sure it is!" I laugh again. As our fake fight dies down, I grin to him. My lips go up to his, giving him a lazy, sleepy kiss. "Happy one year."

He gives me one back, much stronger than the one I gave him. Through his kiss, he whispers to me, "Happy one year."

As his lips slowly leave mine, I tuck my head beneath his chin. My arms go around his form, holding him tightly as if he were a giant teddy bear. He does the same to me. With the sounds of his steady heartbeats under my ear, I slowly drift off to sleep.

That is, until I hear the door to the church open abruptly and loudly. I groan at the sound, but turn to see four people standing in the doorway. Mom, Gabriel, Daryl, and another adult, most likely in his younger twenties, limping alongside the other three members. He has dark, chocolate covered skin, and deep brown eyes, along with short, curly hair on top of his head.

The sight of the newcomer brings many of us to sit up, including both Carl and I. My hand automatically goes to grab my knife, but stops short as mom tells all of us five important, plan-altering words.

"We know where Beth is."

* * *

The rest of the night was spent with Noah, the newcomer, telling us everything he knew about Grady Memorial Hospital, the building where Beth is being held. How the group works, the leader of it (an old cop name Dawn,) and what the facility looks like. He gives us a lot of information, and we begin to form a plan for the morning.

I'm excited about the prospect of having Beth back. After the fall of the prison, I just thought she was dead. I thought _everyone_ was dead. The thought of her coming back, rejoining our group? One of my closest friends? It's like a dream come true.

The second we see light through the windows, we set to work. We're going to make this church a fortress.

The boys start to take apart the old organ from the small stage of the church, and they bring it to the front of the steps. On each side, a row of them protrude from the dirt, pointing out for protection against the walkers. Sasha is currently inside, breaking apart some pews from the back of the church to board up the many windows. It's a good way for her to use up her energy while also being helpful to the group. The rest of us take those pieces of wood and pound some nails into it. Funny thing is, none of us actually have hammers. Instead, we use the strong ends of the pews, the curved edges, to pound the nails into the pieces of wood.

At the moment, I'm holding wood steadily against the glass of a window while Carl is setting a nail into it. Mom and Rick are doing the same to a few sets of windows on our left. Noah's been helping out with the windows as well.

When Rick deems the church guarded enough, we all head inside so those leaving for _Project: Beth_ could get their weapons and extra ammo. Rick also leaves us instructions for when they leave.

"The second our truck is out of view, board up the doors." He tells us while holding Judith. By us, I mean me, mom, Carl, and Gabriel. We're to say behind and hold down the fort and watch over Judith until they return. "When we come back, you can break it down and we'll all head out."

"Head out where?" Mom asks. This is the first time any of us has heard of the plan to move out.

He gives her a sly grin. "I hear DC is popular these days."

I give a chuckle at the words. As he looks around for the rest of our approval, he receives nods and smiles.

"Okay, but firsts things first." He kisses the top of Judith's head before handing her over to mom, whom she takes happily. "We bring back Beth."

He goes over to Carl and they strongly hold each other. He tells his son, "We'll be back soon," before he lets go.

"I know." Carl says, nodding.

Rick turns to me and without even thinking about it, I give him a hug too. He returns the gesture happily. "Good luck." I say. He nods in response. Then he turns and the rest of our group follow him out the door. Carl and close each large door and he grabs a large piece of wood from our pile and we begin to hammer it down.

The second Rick is out of her view, Judith starts to wail in moms arms. Mom tries to gently rock her, humming softly to soothe her, and even seeing if she needs to be changed. Nothing. It's like she can sense that there's something off. The fact that she's crying gives me an off-feeling as well.

By the time we're done with our last reinforcement, she's finally asleep and the rest of us get a chance to sit down on a pew, besides Gabriel. I didn't notice before, but he's on the ground, furiously rubbing at the blood stains with a wet rag. And I'm pissed by the action. _What a waste of water._ But still, he continues his actions with an angry zeal.

I lock eyes with Carl, who sits beside me on the pew, and point to my head, moving my index finger in circles to make the, "crazy," motion with an annoyed expression. He shakes his head at my actions, and I raise an eyebrow with confusion. He mouths to me, "scared."

Carl leaves my side to go to the front of the church, grabbing something I can't see before making his way back to the rest of us. Once he's in view, I see it's the gray pack of handheld weapons, filled to the max with sharp tools and blunt instruments.

He drops the pack on front of Gabriel and opens it up. All of the weapons are put on display for the Father to see. Carl even grabs a couple guns and sets them beside the open pack. Gabriel doesn't stop his attempts to clean the blood as Carl points to them.

"Pick one." He says simply. There's no change in Father Gabtiel. "You need to learn how to defend yourself." He says it easily, calmly. I sit in my seat with my arms crossed and watch Gabriel's reaction, which is very underwhelming.

"We can teach you." Carl adds. This is when Gabriel finally ceases his rubbing and looks up to the other teen.

"Defend myself?" Gabriel has the worst expression on his face; disgust, regret, a profound feeling of worthlessness all wrapped up in one grimace. "They said they'd go."

"They were _liars_ and _murderers_." Carl argued.

"Just like us."

"We protected ourselves. They wanted us dead." He takes a breath, giving his words a chance to sink in for Gabriel. "You're lucky your church has lasted this long. You can't stay in one place anymore. Not for too long."

I nod at the words. From across the room, I see mom holding a sleeping Judith in her arms, frowning at my gesture. I give a small shrug; it's the truth now, whether she agrees or not.

"And once you're out there," Carl continues, "you're gonna find trouble you can't hide from. You _need_ to know how to fight."

With an audible gulp, Gabriel looks down to the choices laid out. He reaches, with a shaky hand, to the large machete towards the end of the pack. _Good choice_.

Carl voices the bought aloud. "But, you're not holding it right. You gotta be able to drive it down 'cause sometimes the skulls aren't as soft and you need to be able-"

Gabriel sets his hands down on the ground, his face contorted as if he were about to puke. He probably is.

"-I... I'm sorry." He waves his hand to Carl as a s ilent gesture to shut up, and he hangs his head low to stop whatever onslaught of vomit that's probably heading up to his throat.

"No." He says quietly, standing up from his spot. "I need to lie down." Carl, though dejected, gives a nod to the priest as he walks to his office. I roll my eyes at the apparent end to his Apocalypse 101 training.

"He's not trying to scare you." I say. Gabriel's head twists in my direction. His face looks like he's in pain. "He's trying to warn you. Out there, it's you or them. You can't hide from the dead. You'll just become one of them." My approach is on the, "trying-to-scare-you," side, but he needs to know. He needs to be warned. Without that machete he's holding in his hand, people I know and care immensely about would be dead right now.

His face, still looking as if he's in pain, gives a shaky nod and he walks faster to his office, eager to get away from us. I roll my eyes at his babyish nature. _And to think, once upon a time I was like that_. It disgusts me.

The room is silent once again as Father Gabriel shuts his squeaky door. I bring my knees up to my chest and I hold them tightly against me with my arms. Carl sits down beside me again, dejected.

"He's gonna die if he doesn't learn." He tells me. His hand lightly grabs one of my knees, holding it lazily. I look to the weapons, still laid out on the floor.

I nod grimly. "He's gonna die."

* * *

" _Step one, you say, we need to talk  
He walks, you say, "Sit down, it's just a talk"  
He smiles politely back at you  
You stare politely right on through_."

My voice echoes through the quiet church as I sing to Judith. She awoke a while ago and I'm trying to get her back to bed. Still, her big blue eyes- which she most definitely gets from her father- stare right up at me, entranced. Her blonde wisps of hair are messy and askew atop her head. One tiny little hand is grabbing at my arm, the other is in her mouth, making her a drooling mess. I don't mind, though. The hypnotized look in her eyes makes me smile as I gently sway her around the room.

" _Some sort of window to your right  
As he goes left, and you stay right  
Between the lines, of fear and blame  
You begin to wonder why you came_."

Carl and mom are sitting in a pew together, slowly eating through a can of peas. Though moms' eyes are on the spoon in her hand, every time I sway in their direction I feel her gaze strongly on me. It's like being watched by a hawk. I don't stop my singing, but I make a mental note to ask her why I'm in a microscope.

" _Where did I go wrong?  
I lost a friend  
Somewhere along, in the bitterness  
And I, would have stayed up, with you all night  
Had I known, how to save a life_."

I look down to the baby again and notice that her eyes are still big and wide; not the least bit tired. I continue my serenade, looking down every other swing to see if she would sleep. Once the song is over, her tired form goes back into the single baby carrier we have. I hear light echoes of clapping, and I look up to see it's Carl, and grin on his face.

"Oh, stop it." I stick my tongue out at him. "You're going to wake her again."

He stops the claps, but he whispers out, "Bravo. Encore!"

I plop beside him and mom and grab a spoon for the peas. "You are terrible."

"Awe, come on." Mom playfully shoves my shoulder. "You're good."

"And pigs can fly." I give a light chuckle to her. "I only sang so she would go to sleep."

"I miss you singing." Carl says. I scoop some peas and raise an eyebrow at him. "I remember that one night, back at the prison, you and Beth sang for all of us. It was nice."

I swallow my peas and nod, smiling. "It was. Maybe she and I will serenade all of you tomorrow. We'll sing some Emily Kinney."

"You better." Mom gives me a cheeky grin and I poke her with the back of my spoon.

As the sounds of cooing fill the quiet room again, I groan. "I _told_ you two!"

They both laugh in response. Mom drops her spoon into the can and she grabs Judith again. She isn't crying, which is a good sign, but still. She's awake. Mom grabs the baby pouch and sets it on her back, Judith in the pouch comfortably.

After the can is empty and the spoons are put into a pack, mom goes to check on Father Gabriel. I can hear soft, kind words to him, offering support and help. I also hear his panicked, though seemingly sincere, "thank you." And I also hear him close the door.

* * *

"Ugh, I'm boreedddd." I groan. I lay on a pew, my legs against the arm rest and an arm dangling from the side. I hit the arm rest to a nonexistent tune. It's too quiet in here.

"Hey Bored, I'm mom." Mom says to me. She sits on the empty space beside my head.

I frown at her. "You... You did NOT just use a dad joke against me."

She grins down to me. "That's exactly what I did. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

I drop the frown and rest my hands beneath my head. "Nothing. I'm just going to sit here and keep complaining."

She goes a playful roll of her eyes as I whine out, "I'm boooored."

 _"PLEASE!"  
"LET ME IN!"_

The three of us all jump at the sudden yells. I look to mom and she jumps on her feet. _Father Gabriel_.

 _"PLEASE, LET ME IN! THEY'RE CLOSE!"_ I can hear his hands banging on the door, but it's shut and barricaded. Carl and I run to the front, grabbing at the wooden plank. No use. It's hammered down really well.

 _"HELP! THEY'RE COMING! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME OUT HERE! CARL! MICHONNE! ALYSSA! I HAD TO SEE IT! I KNOW NOW! LET ME LIVE WITH IT! Oh god, please!"_

The two of us desperately try to pull the wood off the door, but to no avail. His screams fill the air, as does the groans and moans of the undead around him. _There's so many_ , I think.

"Get back." Mom tells us, an axe in her hand. We move behind her, and we grab our guns. I quickly check my ammo: seven bullets. _Shit._

She brings the axe down on the barricade harshly, breaking through the wood. It splinters and cracks at the top, and she pulls the end back out. She brings it down, again and again, and finally we can pull the broken wood out of the way. I open the door and Father Gabriel turns to the sound.

"Come on!" Carl grabs his arm and yanks him inside. Both of us start to shoot at the herd behind him, not even bothering to try and close the door. _Six, five, four_.

"Get back!" Mom tells us. We stop shooting and get behind her, and she yanks her katana out of its sheath.

She starts slicing the walkers with ease, killing at least two with each swing. It's almost entertaining to watch. Then I notice Judith still in the pouch on her back. The baby is confused at why her human is moving around so quickly, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her hands are still latched on to mom's locks in the back.

The hoard seems to be too much for mom to handle. There's too many for her to get. We all back away quickly from them, and I shoot another one getting too close to mom for my comfort. _Three_.

"The rectory!" Gabriel shouts. "Come on!"

With no other choice, we all follow him to the room and he pushes the door shut. The first thing I notice are the missing boards from the ground, all resting against the wall. Where they should be is a gaping hole in the ground.

There's nothing to barricade the door with besides an old wooden chair. Mom grabs it and holds it against the door, hoping it would help but it barely does anything.

Gabriel points to the hole. "That's how I got out. Crawl under to the back. Just go. Take the little one and _GO_."

Mom takes Judith off her back and gives her to Carl, leaving Father Gabriel to hold the door himself. I look to the single bag that we have in the room, only three cans of food in it. Still, I grab it and let Carl hop in first.

"Hey!" Mom gets our attention. "You two wait for me."

We both nod and begin crawling through the hole. It's dark and cramped, and the dirt walls crumble a little with every step. My breath is caught in my throat as we keep moving through it.

Once we reach the end, I gasp in relief and do a quick look around. I can hear the walkers, but most are inside the church by now. There's only a few around, and most are stuck to the organ pieces around the front.

Mom gets out from behind me, and I give her a hand up. "We can lock 'em in there," she pants out. Carl and I give shaky nods. Father Gabriel crawls out of the hole, holding a bloody machete in his hand. _Damn, maybe you_ _ **are**_ _learning._

"I can't run anymore." He coughs out. Mom holds a hand out to him and he takes it.

"We're not running." She says simply.

We all make our way around the front and I go to kill the walkers roaming around. Carl kills the ones on the organ pieces. Gabriel grabs two large wooden planks from the pile Sasha made earlier, along with some nails, and mom quickly yanks off her belt. We all go to the doors of the church and we quickly pull them shut. Gabriel holds a plank up and Carl and I set to beating the nails in with the ends of our guns. Moms hands work quickly to wrap the doorknobs together with the belt.

When we're done, we step back and breathe in quick pants. The doors done. They can't get anywhere.

"Still bored?" Carl pants out to me.

* * *

 _A/N: Hope you all like it! The actual mid-season finale should be up in a few days. And, disclaimer, I do not own the song, "How to Save a Life." I just really like it and thought it would be appropriate to use._


	5. Chapter 5: Angel Wings

_A/N: ... Man, this chapter... I'm not even going to say anything here._

* * *

 _Shit. The church._

There's no way we can go back in there. Not to get our supplies, not to kill the rest of the walkers, _no way._

They're all at the door, pushing against it to try to get their meals. I can see their hands through the gap between the doors, grasping at the wooden edges and scraping their nails against it. I shiver at the sight.

A hand rests on my shoulder, and I turn to the sight of mom looking at me, concern in her chocolate brown eyes. I give a small smile and nod to her, a silent sign that I'm okay. She presses a kiss to my forehead before turning to Carl and Judith. He nods to her too. Her hand goes to cradle Judith's cheek lovingly, who's resting on Carls' back. Knowing all of us were okay, she turns to Father Gabriel. Though he's in quite a state of shock, he seems to be taking the destruction quite well.

"Where did you go?" Mom asks, not angry or condescending; concerned.

"The school." He answers gravely, his hands grasping the wooden fence that goes around the church. I shiver at the mention of it. "I had to see. I had to _know_."

He turns to her, giving her a nod of understanding. _He's getting better. Good_.

The growls at the door get louder, grabbing our attention. The top plank breaks, the force pushing against it too strong to withstand. I watch in fear as the pieces swing loosely from the nails on the door. I eye the bottom plank, hoping it won't fall as well. We don't have enough ammo for this.

Carl and I take our guns out, just in case. Moms hand goes backwards, to the hilt of the katana. Everyone stares at the doors, scared.

"Where do we go?" Carl asks. _I don't know_.

"What do we do?" I ask. _I don't know_.

Just then, the last plank drops from the door. My heart rate spikes and my gun automatically goes up. But I don't need it.

My head turns to the sound of tires to my right, and a huge firetruck comes into view, speeding like a big red blur. It goes to the steps of the church, running over them and blocking the door, where it parks. _Apparently, find a firetruck_.

 _Woah, what?_ I point my gun downwards again, waiting for whoever was driving to come out. _Abraham!_

But he's not alone. Hopping out behind him is Maggie, Glenn, Tara, and Rosita.

Mom and Maggie embrace each other tightly, each grinning and laughing in relief. The second Glenn's out the door I run to him, hugging him like my life depended on it. He chuckles and returns the gesture, telling me, "See? Not dead."

"Good." I reply, grinning into his shirt. When I let him go we turn to the others, and he goes to mom and grasps her forearm in greeting.

"You're back." She beams at him. The grin on his face fades, replaced by a scowl.

"Eugene lied." And the look on moms face drops too. "He can't stop it. Washington isn't the end. Where is everybody?"

At the thought, mom turns to Maggie. Her hands go to Maggie's forearms reassuringly and she grins again. "Beth's alive. She's in a hospital in Atlanta. Some people have her, but the others went to get her back."

The look on Maggie's face is of pure joy. Her eyes fill up with tears of happiness, and I grin at her reaction. Her words are stuck in her throat as she asks, "Do we know which one?"

Mom nods. "Grady Memorial."

She steps back from mom, her hands going to her face as she wipes the tears from her eyes. It's as if she can't believe it's true. She probably doesn't. "Oh my god!" She laughs out, and she hugs Glenn sweetly. Her laughter fills the calm silence that spreads over the group. It leaves us all happy, and for a moment, we all seem okay. As if, maybe this world isn't so bad. It let us have this happy moment, this prospect of having Beth return to us. _We'll be okay._

"Let's go blow this joint; save your sister." Tara says, and we're all grinning and laughing heartily.

"Sounds like a plan." Abraham grunts out. "Let's all get our asses in the truck and head on over."

And we all hop into the back of the truck, ready for tearful reunions and happy gatherings.

* * *

 _Lay down a list of what is wrong_

 _The things you told him all along_

 _And pray to god he hears you_

 _And pray to god he hears you  
_

We make it to Grady fairly easy. Driving's like that when you're the only car on the road.

When we all hop out of the truck, Rosita opts to stay in to watch Judith, Gabriel, and Eugene (who is currently passed out in the back.) the rest of us, guns blazing and armed to the teeth, walk cautiously to the front of the hospital.

 _Where did I go wrong?_

It's a mess here. There are old military tents set up outside, most likely used at the start of the world crashing but never since then. There are many dead walkers scattered around, proof that our group has been here. There's some live ones limping about, but not enough for us to worry about.

We cautiously walk to the doors, our guns pointed to the old silver gates, the adults at the front of the group. Maggie and Glenn are the closest, Carl and I are at the very back. As we inch closer to the doors, they're pushed open from the other side.

Rick walks out first, and I immediately know something is wrong. Even from a distance, I can see his eyes are red and puffy, his head bowed down. When he looks up to the rest of us, he gives a small shake of his head. _What?!_

I watch from where I stand as the rest of the group walks out; Sasha out first, followed by Carol and Tyreese, and Daryl with-

 _Oh no._

I can hear Maggie's sobs from where I stand. My eyes see her falling to the ground, Glenn beside her and holding her tight, but they don't want to register it. _They're lying_ , I tell myself. _My eyes are lying to me_.

But as I look back to Daryl, I see her again. Those beautiful blonde locks that I love, the cowgirl boots she always wore, that gray cardigan she found on that one run. I can hear her voice singing as clear as bells in my head.

And I see the hole right though hers.

 _I lost a friend_

I drop my gun to the ground, a sob escaping my throat. _No. Not her. Not_ _ **Beth.**_

My legs, though they feel like jelly, try to break out to a sprint. _I need to see her. Beth._ _ **Beth.**_ But I can only go so far before I'm stopped by someone grabbing my arm. I turn to look and its Carl, tears streaming down his face. It mirrors my own.

He shakes his head at me. I can't say anything anymore. My voice won't let me. Instead, I look to him and I let out the most broken sound I could ever make. His arms go around me, and I do the same to him. We both drop to the ground, crying to each other. _I lost her. I lost my best friend._

I hold him tightly, so tight I wonder if he could even breathe. It feels like the whole world just crashed onto us, taking the wind from our lungs and the tears from our eyes as it pleased. And I realize that I _hate_ this world. It's cruel and selfish and it takes and it takes and it never gives back.

 _Somewhere along in the bitterness_

 _And I, would have stayed up, with you all night_

 _Had I known_

 _How to save a life...  
_

 _I wish we could have saved you, Beth._

* * *

 _A/N: ... Yeah, this one was not fun to write. But it's out, done with._

 _On a happier note, I might be able to get another one out for this week. Maybe. Depending on how good/bad school is. Since it's only the first week they may not give us too much homework, but being an honors student, my teachers like to give us shitloads. Either way, I'm crossing my fingers and hoping._


	6. Chapter 6: Emma

_A/N: Hello fellow humans! Finally, another chapter out! I know, it's been a while (it always is!) but school is a big factor for me now. I hardly have time to write nowadays :(_

 _On a happier note, we're almost to Alexandria! I am STOKED to start writing that; I have so much planned for our lovely gated community. Including the addition of another OC! Props go to ALLTIMEAOT for allowing me to use Sam in my story! It'll be a few chapters until he is officially introduced to NHWW, though, so stay tuned! Now, onto the chapter._

* * *

Tears.

It's the only thing that we _know_ will happen as time goes on.

It's been a week. A full _week_ since my best friend died. We've all taken the loss pretty hard. Maggie especially.

We went back to the church grounds; it was the only space we knew about so it just worked. We all sleep in the broken cars and the RV, which leads to many sore necks and little to no actual sleep. Some stay outside on the grass, so long as the coast is clear. It's too much of a risk to try and get the church back from the dead.  
We dug a grave for Beth. It was the first thing we did when we came back here. Well, that and copious amounts of tears. I tell myself to stop, that I didn't even know she was alive until a few days ago and that she wouldn't want me to cry over her, but I can't help it. She was an angel to me. My first friend at the prison. The one who helped me find a home amongst the strangers who eyed me every second of the day. It stings to know I won't see her ever again.

Maggie has been so distraught. Every morning, she sits by herself next to the grave, openly weeping to the dirt. It breaks my heart to see her so defeated. And it hurts even more to know I can't do anything to help her. I can't even begin to wonder what Glenn feels like. Even he couldn't break the depressed bubble that holds his wife.

Rick, this morning, told us that we have to move. Go somewhere else. We can't stay here. No more supplies, no room, no shelter. Noah told him earlier of his family's home near Virginia.

"It was secure." Rick tells us. We're all crowded around him, aside from Maggie. "It has a wall, homes, 20 people. Beth wanted to go with him. She wanted to get him there. It's a long trip, but if it works out, it's the last long trip we have to make."

 _Bull shit. There will always be long trips. Nothing works out for long.  
_

"And what if it isn't around anymore?" Glenn voices my opinion.

"Then we keep going." It's a simple answer.

"Then we find a new place." Mom says, her voice strangely calm despite the whirlwind of emotions that's happened in the last seven days (honestly though, I just assume it's a week. For all I know, we could have been here ten days, or twenty.) I had expected her to guard herself more, clam up like she was before. I worry that's what's happening to me.

But we all agree silently. As much as it hurts Maggie, Rick and mom are right. So we pack ourselves up and head on out, taking a new, kind-of–sort-of functioning car and the RV that the GREATM team found (Tara named them that when they broke off. It has all their initials in it.)

Rick, mom, Glenn, Tyreese, and Noah take the car. The rest of us pile into the back of the RV with Carol as the driver.

It's silent for the first few hours. And by first few, I mean most of the morning, leading to the afternoon. I sit wedged between Carl and Sasha in one bench, across from Tara, Eugene, and Rosita. Eugene and Tara are playing some sort of card game on the table, but they don't speak much. There's no noise but the tires crunching gravel and the wind through the windows as we pick up speed. I look past Carl, out the window, watching the trees fly past us in smudges of green and brown.

I notice a hand waving in my face, breaking my concentration on the trees outside. I look to Carl, concern adorning his features. I look at him in confusion.

"I asked you, are you okay?" He tells me. I was so lost in my head the first time, I didn't even hear him ask the question.

I muster up a smile for him, and nod. I don't say anything. I don't trust my own voice. His response to my silent answer is wrapping his arm protectively around me and giving me a squeeze. I lean in to his touch, thankful for it. He gently presses a kiss to the top of my forehead, and this time my smile, though small, is genuine.

"~Carol?" The sound of Rick coming through the radio steals my attention.

She grabs the one to her left of the steering wheel. "I'm here."

"We're halfway there. Just wanted to check the range."

"Everybody's holding tight. We've made it 500 miles. Maybe this can be the easy part."

"~Got to think we're due."

 _Bull shit. That's not how the world works._

"~Give us twenty minutes to check in."

"If we don't hear from you, we'll come looking."

"~Copy that."

And the radios are shut off. And we keep driving.

* * *

Twenty minutes pass by (or an hour, who knows?) and they check in, with bad news.

"~Carol, you there?" It's Rick again. He always has the radio.

"We're here." Carol answers. She pulls to the woods and stops the RV. We're close enough to where Rick and the others are so we don't need to go further.

"~We made it. It's gone."

The words don't take long for her to process it. A lump forms in my chest, but it doesn't take long to disperse. It's not like we expected it to be there. There was a 2% chance of it actually standing. Not to be mean to Noah- he _does_ seem like a nice person- but it was a long shot.

Carol calmly presses the audio to the radio. "What do we do now?"

"~You guys stay there. We'll grab what we can and head back."

"Got it."

And we stay put. And we wait.

I hate waiting.

* * *

I hate this world. It rips all the good it has to shreds. We get the radio message only a few minutes later, the sounds of them scared and frantic and trying to run.

"~Tyreese was bit!" This time it's Glenn. The sounds of pants, most likely someone holding up Tyreese, comes through the static.

"What?!" Sasha runs up to the front, trying to pull the radio from Carol's hands. Carol shoves her away and tries to talk into it.

"What happened?" She asks, keeping her voice calm. _Someone needs to be_.

"~Don't know. He was attacked, we cut it off. He's losing blood fast." Glenn answers.

"Okay, what do we do?"

"~I don't know." Him sounding so distraught scares me. The thought of Tyreese being _bit_ scares me. I look to Sasha, hear her quick, panicked breaths, and all I feel is hurt. She drops to her knees, her arms grasping the back of Carols' chair as tight as possible, and she begins to cry. I don't look to anyone else but her. I don't want to see any more pain.

Carol looks down to Sasha, sadness in her eyes, and her hands cover the ones that grip the seat so tightly. She gives them a squeeze and she pulls out of the chair, full-on hugging Sasha as she cries. Sasha hugs her back.

I feel a hand go to hold my own. I don't look at him. I know I'll just find the same fear in his face that's in mine. I don't need to see it. Instead, I give the hand a squeeze and look out again, to the trees in the sky. _It's too pretty a day for someone to die._

"~Carol, we're at the car." It's Rick again. He's panting and breathless and in the back I can hear car doors slamming. "We need to cauterize the arm and wrap it. Get Sasha and the kids _away_. They don't need to see this."

 _Oh god. It's bad._

"Okay." She looks back to the two of us and we nod in response.

She looks to Sasha in her arms. "Honey-"

"No." she vigorously shakes her head. "He's my brother. I need to see him. No matter what."

Carol seems at war with the response. But Sasha says, " _Please_ ," and Carol gives a small nod. _She's not going to take this well. He's going to be gone and she's going to break down even more.  
_

And my assumptions are correct. I don't want them to be, oh _god_ I don't want to be right, but I am. _We lost another friend._

* * *

We find a nice place to bury him. In the woods, near some flowers and a creek. He would've liked it.

We go through the motions like we did Beth. We all help to dig the hole. Gabriel reads a passage from his Bible. We all get teary-eyed. Sasha tries her best to stay stone cold, but we all feel her heartbreak. We don't say anything. Instead, we say our goodbyes and we move on. It's what Tyreese would want us to do.  
Rick and mom tell us we're going to Washington. It's only 100 more miles away. It could hold something. It's a start.

Days and nights pass by in a blur. The car and RV are running on empty. It's how all of us feel too. We don't have any more food or water left. That's just one of our many problems at the moment.

We go into the woods again, trying to find something, _anything_ to eat. Water too. We would've grabbed water from the creek, but it was dark and muddy and we didn't have anything to clean it with. And we would've run out by now anyways. So here we are, shambling through the woods to find any source of meat or water to drink.

And we can't find anything. Again. So we hop into the car and RV, trying to go as far as possible in them while they still worked. Since we're far from any other vehicle, it's not like we could syphon some gas for them. We're trapped between a rock and a hard place. We don't make it far though. It's barely four miles before the engines sputter out and we're forced on foot.

Our group is eerily quiet as we walk. Normally my ears are filled with the chatter of others, but no one is in the mood to talk. Those who are have thirty-second conversations, small talk, and they are silenced again. I don't even pay attention to the others. It's too much effort to actually listen, and to be frank I don't really care. It's all white noise to me now. Except for when people leave the main group. It's always to try and find food. It always ends up empty handed.

"I'm gonna head out." I hear Daryl say. "See what I can find."

I don't look over to him. I don't raise my hopes. Instead I keep my eyes focused on the cracked asphalt in front of me and watch his shadow ghost to the right. It feels like looking up would take too much energy.

"Don't be too long." Rick tells him.

"I'll go with you." Carol offers. His shadow is joined by hers.

His shadows' head shakes. "I got it."

"You gonna stop me?" Carol asks teasingly. The shadows move to the woods together, disappearing underneath the trees. I listen to the crunching of the grass and the rustling of the leaves as they go deeper and deeper.

A bump against my side gains my attention, and I look up for the first time in a few hours. Glenn.

I raise an eyebrow at the bump. "You doing okay?" He asks. I shrug and look back down. He bumps me again.

"How long has it been since you talked?"

 _Three weeks_.

 _It's been three weeks since Atlanta. Three weeks since Beth._

I don't answer him though. Instead I shrug again. Talking is just a waste of energy to me. We can't afford to waste it nowadays.

We walk side by side in silence again, holding up the back end of our tiny group. The air is heavy between us. I don't want to fill it. I'd rather suffer in silence.

"I have a sister." Glenn says. I look up at him, astonished. _What?!_

He winces at saying it out loud. " _Had_. I don't know if she's still alive or not. She lived in Boston when this started."

My eyes widen with each passing word. "Her name was Emmaline, Emma for short. She was younger than me by a year, but you couldn't tell that if you ever saw us together. I was like an annoying baby brother."

He smiles to himself, and I say, "You were close."

 _Damn_. My voice is _so scratchy_ from not being used. It almost hurts to talk.

"Yeah." He chuckles. "We were conjoined at the hip as kids. Always getting in trouble together. Always getting caught together. As we got older, we started growing distant. Not that we didn't have our bond anymore, but because we were being pulled in two different directions. Emma wanted to be a surgeon. It would have been easy for her. She was academically smart. _Way_ far ahead of me and everyone in her grade. Getting accepted into colleges was easy for her. She found this school in Massachusetts and got in and she packed up and moved. I was still home delivering pizzas."

"What happened to her?" It sounds like I gargled nails.

"Like I said, I don't know. The last time I talked to her was almost two years ago. She called me and my parents just after people started getting sick. She asked if I was okay. I told her that we were fine and there was nothing to worry about. We made a trip for me and my parents to go meet her for Easter that month." The smile he had dropped from his face, placed by a deep sorrow that makes me want to cry. "I'll never know. I'll never find out if my baby sister is dead or alive. It's one of the worst parts about this goddamn outbreak."

 _Jesus,_ I think. _I never knew_.

"I'm sorry." I croak out. I stop walking and hold my arms out to him. He accepts the hug graciously; half because I'm actually interacting with someone after three weeks, and half because it hurt to talk about Emma.

"She's why I keep fighting. Why we _all_ need to keep fighting." He says into my hair. "You honor the dead by going on. Even when you're scared. You live because they don't."

I nod vehemently. And I begin to understand why Glenn has such a big heart. All of his loses, all of his suffering, living in a constant state of, "I don't know," only makes his heart grow. He turns each death into a reason to keep on living, to keep going, and my heart swells in appreciation.

And I say, "Okay," to him.

As we let go of each other and speed up to join the others, I tell him, "I won't say anything to the others."

He shrugs. "You can if you want to. It's not a secret."

"Did you ever tell them?"

"... No."

"Then neither will I. Your secret is safe with me." I give him a smile , which he returns gratefully.

"Thank you."

* * *

 _A/N: How 'bout that twist?_

 _Seriously, I loved writing about Emma. Not that she is, "canon." But really, the writers of the show have NEVER actually given Glenn a backstory so I decided to change that. Tell me what you guys think of Emma's inclusion! Good idea or bad idea?_


	7. Chapter 7: Keep Fighting

_A/N: Hello, my lovelies! Every chapter, we're getting closer and close to Alexandria! I am SO EXCITED to write Team Family there. You have no idea what I have planned for Alyssa and Carl there ;)_

* * *

They're behind us, shambling aimlessly with no thought. But they're getting too close for comfort. Their numbers grow slowly but surely.

We're too weak to fight. I know that if I tried to take down even just _one_ of them, I'd keel over and it would kill me. There's no doubt about it. The rest of the group feels the same. So we keep walking, trying to go a little faster to keep a safe distance.

Then we come to a road going over a dried creek. Over a dried creek means that there is a dip on each side of the road. A dip means we can toss the walkers off the edges.

So we break into two teams; one taking the left and one taking the right. That way the walkers can't crowd our group. They'll go to either side, disbanding into ones and twos instead of fours and fives. And it works. Weakly, we all push them down the sides, careful to keep a safe distance from the edges that we push the dead over. Almost the entire herd is down the ditch, until Sasha gets her hands on a walker. Rather than shoving her undead pal down the side, she keeps him at an arm's length, shoving him to the right.

"Sasha." Mom warns, careful not to get too close to the two, but pulling her katana out. Sasha fucked up the formation. The walkers all move towards her, but she doesn't seem to care. She stabs the one she taunted with ferocity.

Rick seems annoyed at her disobedience, as is everyone else. With eye rolls and sighs of discontent, we shuffle our way to her. Rick pulls out his machete, and the rest of us follow with our sharp handhelds.

"Stay in line. Flank her." Rick orders. "Keep it controlled!" As he says the last word, he throws his machete up and brings it down on a walkers head. I worry as he has trouble getting it out. _He's weak. We're all weak. What was Sasha thinking?_ _  
_

"Plan just got dicked." Abraham says, as poetic as ever.

Sasha moves forward, growling in anger, and begins to stab some others that go near. The pile of bodies grow as she stands another, then another. Until mom grabs the back of her weapon-carrying arm.

She almost stabs mom. Her arm goes back with full force, barely stopping as she almost hits the flesh of my mothers side.

"Stop." Mom says, sounding like a beg. "Just get out of here."

Sasha shrugs her off harshly, swinging her knife down onto the next walker in front of her. We all go to help, loosely swinging our weapons out and tugging them out. I'm so weak that each time I dig my knife into a skull, I need to use both hands to pull it back out. It's torture.

As Sasha goes to kill another walker, her knife accidentally goes through its neck to Abrahams arm, creating a small scarlet mark. His eyes glower down to hers, but it barely registers. She goes back to kill the last walker standing, but mom pushes her to the ground. Mom kills the last one, decapitating it in one harsh slice.

"I told you to _stop_." Mom says, anger clearly present. I don't blame her; that fight took a lot out of all of us. I'm already gasping for air and I only killed three of them.

Sasha gets up from her spot on the ground, all the while eyeing mom like she is insulted. She walks away from the rest of us, setting her knife back in her sheath. We all groan internally, but we follow. We need to keep going. We need to _find_ something. Anything.

* * *

It's not long after that that we find something peculiar in the road.

"Dad, look." Carl says, and when I look up from the ground I see him pointing to something in the middle of the street, a couple minutes from where we are.

 _Cars. A car crash. A wreck._

They're all beat up and old, but that doesn't mean there can't be anything inside. _Please be food. Or water. Anything._ _  
_

"I'm gonna head into the woods, circle back." Daryl says. _Yet again. Another trip.  
_

"May I come with?" Carol asks this time, not pushing her luck with him.

"No." He answers, his tone quite clearly saying he wants his alone time. "Nah. Just me."

We all break apart into tiny groups, looking into individual cars. There's at least eight of them. Though I know it's a longshot, I silently hope for there to be _something_ in one of them.

I go to a tiny silver car, grabbing the drivers door handle and jiggling it. Unlocked. I pull it open and peer inside, and nearly throw up.

The passengers side has a walker in it, old and decaying. The way it's decaying makes it look like it's been here the whole two and a half years of the damn apocalypse. It doesn't even turn its head when I lean into the car. Behind it is an old baby car seat. _Oh god. A kid._ I don't see the baby anywhere, but there's blood and chunks of flesh resting on the fluffy seat. _I really am going to throw up. And I don't think I even_ _ **have**_ _anything to throw up._

I gag, but look back down to the drivers seat, keeping myself from vomiting everywhere. I lean past the seat to the passengers side, my hands shaking as it open the glove compartment. The walker barely twists its arms in my direction, so I don't pay it much thought.

 _Letters, notes, a magazine… Nothing useful.  
_

"Angel, could you pop the trunk?" I hear Carl say, standing to the back. I nod and look around to all the buttons and trying to find one to open the trunk. _Where is it?_

I finally find it hidden on the ground, to the left of the seat. It's a tiny lever that one has to pull up, not just a button. _Cool, I guess._ I yank it open and I hear the satisfying sound- _CLACK!_ \- of the door opening.

I can hear the shuffling of objects being tossed around as I make my way to the back, leaving the driver door open. Carl holds up something tiny in his hand, something dark green.

"Happy birthday." He says, handing it to me. _A bracelet._ "I'm probably late. Or early. Who knows?"

I flip it around in my hand, my eyes roaming over the little details on it. It's a leather wrap, making three loops in total. It's a deep, forest green, with some brown around the edges of it. Two charms hang loosely off the middle wrap: one Celtic symbol, one a small heart.

I smile at the gift and look up to him. _How can you still be so sweet?_

"I thought it was pretty, like you." He winks at me playfully, and my grin grows (along with a forming blush.) "And the green makes your eyes shine brighter."

I go on my tiptoes to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek, and I wrap my hands around his form. My head rests on his chest for just a moment- a sweet moment. He hugs me back tightly; holding me so close, as if this one hug could shroud me from all the pain I've felt these few weeks. I can almost believe that. This is one of those hugs that I don't want to end. His lips go to my forehead and he presses a sweet kiss to my temple before letting me go. He then takes the bracelet from my hand and begins to shimmy it down my left wrist.

"You don't need to talk." He says gently, his eyes moving from my wrist to my eyes for a moment before looking back at the bracelet. "I get it. I'm not going to tell you how to cope. I'm not good at it either. So long as you don't hurt yourself. I couldn't function if you did. Okay?"

My heart jumps in my throat when he says, "I couldn't function." _No. Never. I would never do that._ But I don't say it out loud again. So instead, when he looks back up to me, I nod vigorously. Even though he didn't seem tense before, he visibly relaxes at my mute statement. _How long has he thought that? I've worried him this whole time?_ I guess I did.

Once the bracelet is on my wrist, he tells me, "Done. Pretty bracelet for a pretty girl."

I give a small laugh at his words, and he gives me a cheeky grin. He drops one hand to his side and the other intertwins our fingers together before they're dropped as one.

"C'mon, there's nothing else in the car." He gives a gentle tug on my hand and together we go back to the group.

* * *

Nothing. Yet again. Not a single person found food. So we all sit down on the side of the road, by the cars, just taking a quick breather. I feel like I could pass out, that maybe I _should_ pass out. Being asleep would be easier to handle than this empty pit in my stomach.

I press my back against moms, my eyes on the forest and hers to the street. It's more coverage. Plus, it's comfier to rest with her than against a tree. Carl and Rick do the same to our left.

A branch snaps loudly to the street, and I automatically pull out my knife. But I'm so weak that I almost drop the damn thing. My hands are so shaky from the low blood sugar. Yet, the weapon isn't needed. Our group on the ground all turn towards the sound, but it's only Daryl making his way back from his solo hunt. He didn't catch anything either.

My eyes, half-lidded but still being used, go to Abraham grabbing a bottle of whiskey from one of the bags. I frown. _Now's not the time to drink._

"So all we found was booze?" Tara asks Rosita as they sit together by the forest, though it's said more as a statement.

"Yeah." Rosita answers. Her hand holds a knife, and she stabs it periodically into the dirt in front of her. I give her props; she still has strength left.

"It's not gonna help." Tara looks down to the drink being downed, sheepishly saying the words.

"He knows that." Rosita says with a firm, sarcastic nod. More of a, " _Oh, he knows it. He just doesn't give a shit,_ " kind of nod.

"It's gonna make it worse."

"Yes, it is."

"He's a grown man." Eugene says, trying to defend the ginger. "And I truly do not know if things can get worse."

We're all silent. _Yes, they can. They always can._

"They can." Rosita tells him, nodding at her words.

Suddenly, there's rustling in the bushes around us. My knife is held up yet again, and I don't like what I see. Dogs. Four of them.

They all run to us, stopping maybe a foot from our group. Wild and mangy, they've seem to have been put through the mill. And I think, " _We have, too. It's okay_." All of us tense up as they pace back and forth, and then they begin to bark at us. _Shit. Don't_. _Shitshitshithsit-_

And the _thwick, ping ping_ of silenced bullets fills my ears. And pained whimpers. _Sasha. Her gun has a silencer._ I flinch as I see the dogs go down one by one, bleeding and dying. _I'm sorry._ It makes me want to cry.

My free fingers find moms on the ground, and I push mine in between hers. Her eyes swiftly look downward at the sudden intrusion of her personal space, but relaxes and pulls my fingers in tighter. And together, we watch Rick stand up and head to the forest clearing, yanking a stick from the ground. Using both hands he breaks the stick in half, and thirds, and quarters, handing the pieces out to everyone. _Ohmygod. We're going to eat them._ And while the prospect of eating dog meat makes me squirm, I'm also salivating at the thought of food _. Finally, some food.  
_

We build a small campfire in the middle of the group, and we barbecue our chunks of dog. The second mine is dark enough, I grab it off my stick and bite into it savagely. The burn on my tongue and my fingers from the cooked meat stings, but it's so worth it. I'm sure the tip of my tongue agrees.

I look over to the group, surveying the small chatter of others. It's relatively quiet, not that I'm surprised. Why talk when we can eat? Though I do witness Gabriel yanking his white collar of his shirt, throwing it into the fire. Maggie watches every move he makes as he does so.

We don't stay for long. Though it's a good meal for all of us, it'll only last us another day or two. So we cook the rest of the dogs and throw it into a bag and hit the road.

I take the back of the group again. It's easier like this. Normally people don't bother me here; it's easier to be alone. With the exception of Glenn this morning, it's relatively quiet for me.

Speaking of Glenn, I see him talking to Maggie. Finally. She needs him, whether or not she admits it. He's been so cautious around her lately, and she hasn't let him in. But today, it seems like she does. I see the conversation start by Glenn offering her a bottle of water. She doesn't take it. And, in the softest voice that he could ever use, he talks to her. And though I'm too far away to hear whatever he says to her, I see that they're not forceful, or angry. They're as kind and compassionate as he's ever been. Though I can't hear the words, I can tell they have an impact on her. She takes the bottle from him and takes a tiny swig.

It puts a smile to my face, to see that she's beginning to let someone in again. Especially Glenn. It's good for her. Even though the water was just a tiny step, it's still a step taken.

Glenn turns to around to the rest of us holding up the back. That includes Daryl, Sasha, Abraham, and me. Daryl flat out answers no. Abraham is still tending to his whiskey, so he gives a no. Sasha just shakes her head. I don't either. Not that I don't want to, but this damn bottle needs to last for over a dozen people. I don't want to waste the resources if I don't gravely need it.

I notice Daryl leaving the group, yet again. I'm beginning to grow annoyed with his constant trips out. He finds nothing, comes back to the group, and leaves again. They're useless trips and they need to stop. Especially if-

 _Holy shit._

"What the hell is that?" Glenn squints to the middle of the road, just barely ahead of where we are. _He sees it too. I'm not going crazy._ _  
_

"What?" Mom glances over to where he's looking at, and her eyes widen. I'm not sure if they're from shock, fear, or excitement. Probably a mix of all three.  
 _Water_. Jugs and bottles filled to the brim with clear _water_. In the middle of the water pile is a paper that writes out in black sharpie, "FROM A FRIEND."

I want to get excited; I really do. That thought of the water, even looking at it makes me want to drink it, but I can't. Nor does anyone else. We all have the underpaying thought: "FROM A FRIEND." With a note like that, it's most likely poisoned. _All that water, gone to waste._

Gabriel walks up to the pile eagerly, grabbing a bottle with excitement.

Immediately Rick shakes his head. "Put it back."

"Why?" Gabriel pouts, eagerly yanking the top off the bottle.

"Poison." Rick says, yanking the bottle out of his hands with haste and spilling some in the process. I watch the droplets hit the pavement with hungry eyes. We all circle around the pile as Rick caps the bottle and puts it back with the others.

Daryl pops back from his little rendezvous, looking to all of us. Rick grabs the note and shows it to the hunter. Daryl immediately goes into Defense-Mode, yanking his crossbow from his shoulder and pointing it down the street, watching. The sense of unease grows in our group with his action.

"What else do we do?" Tara asks Rick.

"Not this." He answers. "We don't know who left it."

"If it's a trap, we already happen to be in it." Eugene reasons, his thirst overcoming his reasoning. "But I, for one, would like to think it is indeed from a friend."

"What if it isn't?" Mom points out. I notice her voice is heavy and groggy. "What if they put something in it?"

Though he hears her, the words don't register. He pulls into the circle and grabs a bottle.

"Eugene!" Rosita yells to him, annoyed as all hell.

"What are you doing, dude?" Tara sides with Rosita. Yet again the words don't register to him and he takes the cap off and brings the drink to his lips.

"Quality assurance." He says it like it should be obvious. But just as he's about to take a sip, Abraham walks to Eugene and knocks the bottle out of his hands harshly. _Thank you.._ Eugene's shirt is slightly soaked from the water, and he looks distressed and embarrassed at Abrahams action.

"We can't." It's only two words, but Rick puts such a harshness to them that Eugene just nods.

And then, the best thing happens to us.

 _Thunder_.

And it _rains_.

I look up to the sky, feeling the strong raindrops hit my skin. They're so harsh as they pound against my skin, and I have to think for a moment. _Is this real_?  
But I look to the others, and they do the same as me. Arms outstretched, head held high, mouths open. I can hear the laughter of relief from them. And I laugh too.

I look up to the sky again, opening my mouth to let the water in. The warm droplets hit my tongue and my teeth and in the moment, it's the best feeling ever. I hold my arms up to the sky, rubbing my skin furiously. The dirt and blood that's been caked into it slowly washes away. The rain makes me clean again. It makes all of us clean.

I glance around all of us, my heart swelling in appreciation at the rain. It's what we all needed. I haven't seen our group so happy since before the church. Tara and Rosita drop to the ground, lying on their back and letting the rain soak their fronts. Glenn drops to a knee, running a hand over his face and laughing heartily. Mom even hugs Carol beside her, swinging back and forth as they grin from ear to ear. The only two that aren't rejoicing are Maggie and Sasha. They stay stoic and still in their spots.

Carl holds a hat over Judith's face, shielding her from the harsh drops as he looks up to the sky with his mouth open. I move over to them and laugh without thought. I bring an arm around Judith and the other around Carl, holding them loosely as he and I both raise our heads to the sky.

"Everybody, get the bags." Rick orders, a great smile showing from underneath his caveman beard. "Anything you can find. C'mon!"

We all rummage through our messenger bags and packs, grabbing our empty water bottle and blowing air into them so they get into shape. And those of us with empty arms hold them steady, catching all the water we can.

Sadly, our happiness is short-lived. The clouds clap loudly with thunder, and the joy that Team Family has is replaced with apprehension. _A storm? Really? We can't catch a single god damn break._ Judith begins to cry loudly at the thunderclaps, and we all realize: _shit_. The sky grows dark in the blink of an eye. The clouds, once poofy and white, are now masses of floating grey, bringing along the promise of a harsh storm.

"Let's get moving!" Rick shouts, hoping he's heard over the sounds of Mother Nature cackling.

"There's a barn!" Daryl shouts to him.

"Where?!"

* * *

The trek through the woods is quick, thank god. And since the barn is empty with no signs of anyone, alive or dead, we all hop inside. Almost all our bottles are, for the most part, filled about a quarter from the top. Each of them. Not that I'm saying it'll last, but it's a good start.

By nighttime, we have a fire built and we all huddle around it, trying to dry off and stay warm. Currently I'm lying against a barn wall, still in the firelight but away from the group. I play with the new bracelet on my wrist, twirling it around and rubbing the charms in between my fingers without thought.

"Is this seat taken?" Someone says above me, a voice I'm all too familiar with. I look up to her with a tiny smile and pat the open spot beside me. She plops down, cuddling up to my side so we keep warm. Her arm is thrown around my shoulder, pulling me close. I press my head into the crook of her shoulder and she rests hers atop mine.

"Feeling better?" She whispers into my hair. I nod, being careful not to hit her in the face as I move my head. "Good."

Absentmindedly, my right arm goes to the bracelet once more, moving it back and forth to an absent rhythm. Moms hand goes to the jewelry, my own moving away so she can look at it. Her finger moves around the spiral, stopping to flip over the charms.

"Carl got this for you?" She asks, but it's more of a statement. Who else would?

So I nod to the question, shooting a smile over to his sleeping form. He still holds Judith tightly, even in his sleep.

"He's good to you." She tells me, a genuine smile on her face. I blush lightly. "No, I mean it. He's been beside you this whole time, taking care of you without thinking. He's sweet and kind and generous... I'm glad you found him."

 _Me, too._

My response is to snuggle up closer to her, my arm going around her middle and holding her tightly. She responds with the same amount of love.

And we sit there together for what feels like an eternity. We just hold each other, comfortable in the silence (and general chatter from the rest of the group and the crashes of thunder.) It's nice to sit with her like this. It reminds me of how we used to sleep together in the winter, back when it was just her, Andrea, and me. We always held each other close to keep warm; just like this. _Oh, the nostalgia_. Slowly, I feel my eyelids getting heavy. Mom notices too.

"Go." She takes her arm off my shoulders as she untangles herself from me. "Get some sleep."

I nod to her and press a kiss on her cheek. Then I move to Carl and Judith, getting on Judith's side so she's in between us. My arm goes around her and Carl protectively before I finally doze off.

 _CRASH! CA-CLAP!_

The sounds immediately wake me up. The, " _CLAP_!" I understood, but the crash?!

I look around the group, and they all stand from their spots and run to the barn door. And then the sound of walkers lurking fill my ears. _They're right outside. Shit_.

Carl and I look to each other, and we get up as fast as we can to help the others. Judith stays on the ground, alone. It's not like she can move anywhere; she'll be safe.

As a single force, we all push against the wood. Some with their backs, others with their hands. I groan as push on my back with all my might. The door _needs_ to stay closed.

The thunder can be seen through the cracks, easily blinding me if I looked out. The wind is so strong, pushing against the door with as much force as it possibly can. The walkers push hard, too. Them, the wind, the rain, the thunder- it's like Mother Nature is testing us. Using all of her strength to beat us down and kill us. We can't let that happen. _We can't._

So together we stay, holding this damn door shut for our dear lives, giving a hearty, "fuck you!" to all of her tests. The hunger, the thirst, and now _this_? These past weeks have been absolute _hell_ and I'm not going to let her win this battle _. Fuck you. We're still here._

 _Yeah, we're still here._

* * *

 _A/N: Not the best chapter, but it's finally out! And that means that there should be ONE chapter left until we get to Alexandria!_

 _Now, onto something not-so-fun. The premiere for season 7. I'm assuming I'm not the only one that cried, correct? Not that I'm going to spoil it for anyone on here that hasn't seen it, but... It was bad. Really bad. Like, I-cried-for-two-hours-after bad._

 _I don't want to go there with this story. Up to season six, for sure, but I don't think I'll want to continue onto season 7, which will be a problem. I'm still figuring that out._

 _Well, don't freak out yet. (Or, freak out to me in a review or PM! lol) I still have a LOT to go with. This story isn't ending any time soon :) I still have a lot to tell._


	8. Chapter 8: No Safe Havens

_A/N: Hello my lovelies! For once, I get a chapter out in a reasonable time! I know, weird, right? But a good kind of weird :)_

 _This one is over 6,000 words, so it's long too! Timely AND long! You guys get a real treat today! And, exciting news, NEXT ONE WE FINALLY GET INTO ALEXANDRIA! I haven't been THIS EXCITED to write something since making it into the prison courtyard with the baby food. I hope you all like what I'm going to do in this lovely post-apocalyptic community. And, I put this is in an older chapter, but I'm going to write it again- **There will be another OC added into the story!** I was allowed the use of, "Sam," by his creator, ALLTIMEAOT. I don't know if you guys are happy about the addition of someone else, but I'm excited to write him. I just ask that you give him a chance! He's going to be a pretty damn cool guy._

* * *

The next morning is calm, sweet, and uneventful. We all feast heartily and drink to our hearts content, all the while having blissful conversations of how we want to plan our DC trip.

Wrong.

We really _can't_ catch a break, can we?

Most of us sleep like shit after the storm calms down. We're all on edge from the possibility of walkers outside our door, hearing our every move, smelling the blood run in our veins. We're scared.

But the morning light shines through the cracks of wood and most of us manage to catch a wink or two of sleep. I'm not one of those people. Instead, I grab a tiny strand of rope off the barn wall, tying loose knots and untying them throughout the night. It keeps my hands busy and slows my mind from wandering. Lord knows what I'll think of.

My hands stop moving as the barn door opens, Maggie stepping in the doorway. She and Sasha went out earlier to watch the sunrise. "Everyone..."

She says it cautiously, slowly, like she's trying to prepare us for something. And as she opens the door all the way, I realize she is.

"This is Aaron." She introduces, waving to a man whom I've never seen before. Though his hands are raised, we all immediately stop lounging around. We stand up quick and raise our guns to him. My knife is in my hands in a flash.

Daryl passes by the three of them at the doorway, looking outside for any sign of others.

"We met him outside. He's by himself." Maggie explains slowly, tying to reason with our agitation and anger. "We took his weapons and we took his gear." Daryl comes behind him and pats him down in a quick frisk. Aaron doesn't object; actually, he pulls his arms from his side so Daryl can make a clean, full frisk.

As Daryl stops, the newcomer looks around at all of us wide, blue eyes. I take quick note of his curly brown hair and three layers of clothing: tee, flannel, and heavy jacket. He looks scared. _You better be_.

"Hi." He gives an awkward nod to Rick, who's currently holding Judith. But Judith begins to cry so he hands her off to Carl.

"It's nice to meet you." Aaron says, holding a hand out and moving closer to Rick so they can shake. _Are you serious?_ Once the clicks of guns from our group are audible, he realizes his place and stops, his arms raised in surrender again.

"You said he had a weapon?" Rick ignores the handshake debacle and looks over to Sasha and Maggie. Maggie goes over to him and hands him a single revolver. He holds it up to show Aaron, and he puts it in the belt of his pants.

"There something you need?" Rick pointedly accentuates, "need," at the end. It makes the question sound more like, _"Why did you come here? Who the fuck do you think you are?"_

"He has a camp nearby." Sasha answers for him, apprehensive and sarcastic. "He wants us to _audition_ for membership."

"I- wish there was another word. Audition makes it sound like we're some kind of a dance group. That's only on Friday nights." He laughs at the end, trying to lighten the mood. _Not working, buddy_.

He senses the awkwardness and general, "I don't care," emotion of our group, and tries to salvage the moment. "And it's not- it's not a _camp_. It's a _community_. I think you _all_ would make valuable additions. But, it-it's not my call. My job is to convince you all to follow me back home." His eyes land to Rick, whose hands are twitching by his side. His immediate protection-mode is set up again, stronger than ever. "I know. If I were you I wouldn't go either. Not until I knew _exactly_ what I was getting into. Sasha, can you hand Rick my pack?"

With an heir of, "what the fuck?" she saunters over to Rick, shrugging off the tan backpack that rested on her shoulders. Aaron continues, "Front pocket, there's an envelope."

Rick goes to the front pocket, searching the bag as Aaron keeps talking. "There's no way I could convince you to come with me just by talking about our community." As he talks, he brings his hands down and folds them, as if he were some public speaker. "That's why I brought those."

Rick takes package from the pocket, and it's _huge_. It's stuffed with something. "I apologize in advance for the picture quality. We just found an old camera store last-"  
"No one gives a shit." Daryl interrupts, spitting his words out.

Aaron turns to look to Daryl. "You're absolutely 100% right." _Wow, are you serious?_ _  
_

He turns back to Rick as our leader pulls out the pictures and looks to the one on top. "That's the first picture I wanted to show you because nothing I say about our community will matter unless you know you'll be safe. If you join us, you will be. Each panel in that wall is a 15-foot high, 12-foot wide slab of solid steel, framed by cold-rolled steel beams and square tubing. _Nothing_ alive _or_ dead gets through that without our say-so. Like I said, security is obviously important. In fact, there's only one resource more critical to our community's survival. The people."

We all mull over his thoughts. Mom and Rick share a look but I can't tell what they're thinking. I know what I'm thinking. _It's a trap. Obviously. Those places don't exist anymore._

"Together; we are strong." Aaron continues, holding on to our attention. And he's happy that he's got it. " _You_ can make us even stronger. The next picture, you'll see inside the gates."

And suddenly Rick starts striding forward, quick and swift.

Aaron keeps talking, almost oblivious to Angry Leader 5000. "Our community was first constru-"

And he receives a fist to the face. The punch is powerful enough to knock him out on the spot. Not that I'm surprised. He looks like a twig. I'm sure Judith could punch him and he'd be out like a light. _Thank god. He can't talk when he's knocked out._

Some of the others crowd around Aaron, grabbing him and bounding his wrists together. Rick just shakes his head at Aaron's unconscious body and turns back around.

"Just so we're clear," mom starts, seemingly confused and angry at Ricks action, "that look wasn't a, 'let's attack that man,' look. It was a, 'he seems like an okay guy to me,' look."

Rick disagrees, like the majority of our group. "We gotta secure him. Dump his pack. Let's see what this guy really is."

 _Thank you, Rick, for keeping your head on straight.  
_

"Rick!" Mom hisses, clearly angry with his reaction.

He turns to the rest of the group. "Everybody else, we need eyes in every direction. They're coming for us. We might not know how, or when, but they are."

"Me and Sasha, we didn't see him." Maggie tells Rick, hoisting up Aaron's body into a sitting position. "If he had wanted to hurt us, he could've."

"Anybody see anything?" Rick calls out. Those not keeping their eyes on Arron are on a new patrol, peering through the cracks of the walls with practiced scrutiny. That includes me, just a few paces away from Glenn.

"Just lots of places to hide." Glenn answers.

"All right, keep looking!"

Through the corner of my eye I see Rick moving over to Carl, whom has kept busy by shuffling through the items in Aaron's bag. "What did you find?" Rick asks.

There's jars of food- _baby_ \- food, spread out, but the item that takes most of his attention is a bright orange gun. He hands it over to his dad. "Never seen a gun like that before."

Rick doesn't seem confused though. He takes the gun from Carl and pulls the tip down to look at the barrel. He gives a nod to his son before going back to Aaron. The newcomer is stirring back awake, groaning through what I assume is a splitting headache. Rick doesn't half-ass his punches.

"That's a hell of a right cross there, Rick." Aaron compliments. _Oh my god. You get fucking_ _ **punched in the face**_ _and you compliment the man? It's like you have a death wish written on your forehead.  
_

Mom goes to the floor with a cloth and begins to dab at the fresh blood that's on Aaron's face, all mother-like.

Rick cocks his head to the side, bristling with anger. _I get it, Rick. This idiot is overly compliant. It's a bad sign._ "Sit him up."

"I think it's better if-" Mom tries to reason with him, but is interrupted by the pained man himself.

"It's okay." Aaron gives a fake yawn to stretch out his jaw muscles, wincing with the movement.

"He's fine. Sit him up." Rick orders again. Mom is angry with the order but helps Aaron to sit up straight.

"You're being cautious." Aaron pants in his spot. "I completely understand."

He barely gets his words out before Rick interrogates him. "How many of your people are out there? You have a flare gun." He pulls the orange gun out to show it to our new prisoner. "You have it to signal your people. How many of them are there?"

Aaron huffs in his spot. "Does it matter?"

" _Yes_. Yes it does."

"I mean, of course," Aaron almost gives an eye roll to our leader, "it matters how many people are _actually_ out there, but, does it matter how many people I _tell_ you are out there? Because, I'm pretty sure no matter what number I say- eight, thirty two, four hundred and forty four, _zero_ \- no matter what I say, you're not going to trust me."

"Well, it's hard to trust anyone who _smiles_ after getting punched in the face."

 _Damn right!_

"How about a guy who leaves bottles of water for you in the road?"

And sure enough, when I look back to the table with all the packs supplies thrown over it, there's at least four bottles there, filled to the top with clean, clear water. Just like the shit we found in the middle of the street yesterday.

"How long you people been following us?" Daryl asks gruffly, anger lacing each word. He's a tracker; he doesn't like _being_ tracked.

"Long enough to see that you practically ignore a pack of roamers on your trail." Aaron's voice quivers, but he keeps his cool. "Long enough to see that despite a lack of food and water, you never turned on each other. You're survivors, _and_ you're people. Like I said, and I _hope_ you won't punch me for saying it again, that that _is_ the most important resource in the world."

The decree is met with silence. I look down to my feet, not wanting to think about what he said. It's too much to take in.

But I hear Rick as again, this time his voice harsh. "How. Many. Others. Are out there?"

"One." Aaron gives a full answer this time, simple. But when I look to his face, his expression is dull. He knows Rick won't believe him. Nor do I, really. Just one? _Can't be true.  
_

And Rick shakes his head, livid at the thought of just _one person_ being out there.

And Aaron is smug in his response to The Look. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. If it's not words, if it's not pictures, what would it take to convince you that this is for real?"

 _You can't, because it's not. You're a liar._

"What if I drive you to the community? All of you? We leave now, we'll get there by lunch."

 _Oh, really? Take all of us to your community? Sounds like a death trap to me._

"I'm not sure how the 15 of us are going to fit in the car you and your _one friend_ drove down here in." Rick points out, shutting down the idea.

"We drove separately. If we found a group, we wanted to be able to bring them all home. There's enough room for all of us!"

"And you're parked just a couple miles away, right?" Carol asks sourly.

"East on Ridge Road." Aaron nods. "Just after you hit Route 16. We wanted to get them closer, but then the storm came, blocked the road. We couldn't clear it."

"Yeah, you've really thought this through." Rick nods. _Sounds like it_.

"Rick," Aaron says, exasperated. "If I wanted to ambush you, I'd do it here. You know, light the barn on fire while you slept; pick you off as you ran out the only exit. You can _trust_ me."

The plea is met with silence again. I shake my head. _No, we can't. You're a liar. You're a liar._

Mom stands from her spot beside Aaron. "I'll check out the cars."

"There _aren't_ any cars." Rick argues.

"There's only one way to find out." Mom raises an eyebrow slyly, as if challenging Rick to argue with her. He takes the bait.

"We don't need to find out."

"We _do_." Mom presses, firm in her tone. "You know what you know, and you're sure of it, but I'm not."

"Me neither." Maggie says, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

Through his thick beard _(man, that thing is huge,)_ he grinds his teeth together in disagreement. With a shake of his head, he tells mom, "Your way is dangerous. Mine isn't."

"Passing up someplace where we can _live_? Where _Judith_ can live? That's pretty dangerous." She waits a beat, just to see if he would say anything. "We _need_ to find out what this is. We can handle ourselves. So _that's_ what we're gonna do." She says it with such resolve that she doesn't leave Rick a place to argue.

"Then I will, too." Glenn pipes up. "I'll go."

Rick seems so lost at the thought of the two going. It spikes up my heart rate. _Mom and my closest friend. My_ _ **family**_ _._

"Abraham." Rick calls to the ginger. Abraham is still against the wall, peering out for Aaron's _one friend_. Rick doesn't even need to ask. Abraham nods to his silent request with a grin. "Yeahh. I'll walk with 'em."

He walks over to the others as Rick calls out, "Rosita?"

She nods. "Yeah, okay." She heads over to Abraham.

"If there's trouble, you got enough firepower?" Rick asks Glenn.

"We got what we got." Glenn answers sourly. Rick takes out his Python and gives it to him.

As the mini group gets ready (Maggie included,) Daryl grabs Aaron and pushes him against a beam, tying the newcomer to it.

"The walkies are out of juice." Rick informs them. "If you're not back in 60 minutes we'll come."

Mom nods. And Rick adds, "Which might be just what they want." She almost rolls her eyes at him, I can tell. I know that look. But she doesn't, she chooses to keep the peace. She heads out with the others and the door is pulled shut behind them. My heart pounds quick in my chest. _Please be safe._

Rick begins to strategize to the rest of us. "If we're all in here, we're a target."

Daryl gruffly says, "I got the area covered." He grabs his crossbow and heads out the door, most of us following. That includes me.

"All right, groups of two, find somewhere safe within eyeshot." Rick orders. We all head out, with Carl and I taking the back end of the group. As we leave I feel a hand going to my shoulder, reassuring and firm.

I turn to see its Rick. He does the same to Carl. A silent way of saying, "Stay safe." I give him a smile as I walk out the door. I can feel his eyes on us, up until he closes the barn door.

Carl and I go in different directions, finding other people to keep watch with. The whole group quietly breaks off into pairs. He's with Carol, I'm with Tara.

I don't know anything about her. All I know is that she was with Glenn for a while after the prison. Knowing that Glenn likes her make me think that she can't be _too_ bad, but still. Glenn likes everyone. He's just that kind of guy.

My knife is held tightly in my hand, held up in warning. She has a gun; I can't tell what type though. We're near an opening to the woods, just a couple yards from Eugene and Noah. We head further into the brush, keeping away from the other group. We want to be spread out, not clumped together.

When we don't see anything, she lowers her gun to point to the ground. I keep my knife raised.

"So, your name's Alyssa?" Tara asks, attempting to make small talk. I nod, though I'm not looking at her. My eyes are fixated to the brush.

"Glenn told me." She says. "How old are you?"

I shrug. I lost count. Maybe 14? Maybe 15? I mean, 16 feels a bit far stretched but I guess I wouldn't be too surprised. At any rate, I've lost count.

"You don't talk much, do you?" It's a statement. From her voice, I can tell she's off-put by my silent answers. _No. No, I don't. Not anymore._

So I shake my head. And she nods to me.

"You don't talk; I talk too much." Tara gives a humorless laugh. "What I wouldn't give to have your problem."

 _No. You don't want this._ I vigorously shake my head at her in an attempt to get my point across. She gives me a look of confusion, but shrugs her shoulders.

 _So much for small talk._

"Hey, get your asses over here!" Abraham shouts, gaining our attention. Not that he's shouting to us in particular; more like he's shouting to the rest of the group.

Tara and I look at each other, shrug, and hop through the rest of the green to see the tiny group (mom, Glenn, Maggie, Rosita, and Abraham) all standing outside an RV. They hold cans in their hands, and their arms are overflowing with how many they hold. My eyes widen at the sight. _So. Much. Food. And an RV_.

"We hit the dickin' jackpot!" Abraham grins, a jovial laugh escaping his lips. My eyes wander to the RV and I put two and two together. _So, Aaron didn't lie about the car._ It _could_ fit all of us. _But that doesn't mean that his community is real_. A small part of my brain whispers, " _But it could be_." My rational side shuts the thought down. _It can't be. It's not real_.

As the rest of our group finds the RV, all of us grab as many cans as we can carry and we all head back to the barn. Aaron gives an exasperated sigh as he sees us set his food down on the table. His eyes follow each of us with a dejected gaze.

"You see this?" Rick take the top can, Spaghetti-O's, and crouches down in front of Aaron. "This, this is ours now."

"There's more than enough." I can hear the sadness in Aaron's voice, though he tries to be happy.

His expression stays downcast as Rick continues. "It's ours whether or not we go to your camp."

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't we go?" Carl asks from my side. _Why_ _ **would**_ _we?_ I raise an eyebrow towards him.

"If he were lying, or if he wanted to hurt us- but he isn't." Mom takes Carls' side. "And he _doesn't_. We _need_ this. So we're going, _all_ of us. Somebody say something if they feel differently."

"I don't know, man." Daryl says from his corner. He shakes his shoulders as he looks to Rick. "This barn smells like horse shit."

And that's what flips the switch in Ricks' brain. "Yeah." He says quietly. "We're goin'."

And I don't know if I'm happy or sad. Do I want us to go? _It's not real_ , I tell myself. _Aaron's a liar_. But, is he? Do I just _want_ him to be a liar?

What if he's telling the truth? Can I handle it?

Rick turns back to Aaron. "So where are we going? Where's your camp?"

Aaron seems taken aback by the sudden change of heart. "Well, every time I've done this, I've been behind the wheel driving recruits back. I believe you're good people. I've bet my life on it. I'm just not ready to bet my friends' lives just yet."

The group as one entity gets angry. _You're telling us we can't come, after preaching to us all day that we should? Ugh._

"You're not driving." Mom goes to him. "So if you want to get home, you'll have to tell us how."

Aaron seems at war with himself. Trapped between a rock and a hard place. But he sighs and finally tells us, "Go north on Route 16."

"And then..?" Mom presses.

"I'll tell you when we get there."

Rick puts a map on the ground. "We'll take 23 north. You'll give us directions from there."

"That's- I don't know how else to say it- that's a BAD idea. We've cleared 16. It'll be faster."

"We'll take 23." His eyes bore into Aaron's, daring him to fight back. "We leave at sundown."

"We're doing this at night?" Sasha asks.

"Look, I know it's dangerous. But it's better than riding up to the gates during the day. If it isn't safe we need to get gone before they know we're there."

" _No one_ is going to hurt you." Aaron interrupts, exasperated. "You're trying to protect your group, but you're putting them in _danger_."

Rick says simply, "Tell me where the camp is, we'll leave right now."

Aaron just shakes his head, dejected. So Rick just throws his hands out as a, "I knew it," gesture. As he stands up, he tells us, "It's going to be a long night. Eat. Get some rest if you can."

He heads out the door, most likely to take watch for us. Mom follows suit, closing the door behind the both of them. Abraham heads to the table and stabs the top of a can of Spaghetti-O's. He pops the top and holds it out to all of us.

"Hungry?" He asks all of us, a grin on his face.

* * *

By nightfall, we all break into two groups. The bulk of us take the RV, including me. Aaron, Rick, mom, and Glenn take the car in the front. The RV, driven by Abraham, takes the back since Aaron is going to give the car group directions.

Everything seemed fine at the start of the trip. Abraham and Rosita are at the front, talking and having a laugh. Or a chuckle. Not an actual laugh. Until Abraham hollers out a, "Woahh!" and spins the RV, harshly hitting the brakes and we all lunge forward.

"What the hell happened?" Carol immediately stands once she gains her footing, and runs to the front. "Where are the others?"

"I dunno." Abraham grunts out. He puts the RV in reverse and pulls us off back to the start of 23 north. "They flew off the road. Looks like walkers."

"Aaron said they didn't clear it." Maggie's nails dig into the flesh of her palms. _Glenn's in that car._

I audibly gulp. _Mom's in that car. Rick's in that car._ I can feel a hand sneaking into my own and tightening its grip. I don't even need to look to know it's Carl. _He's freaking out. I'm freaking out. Maggie's freaking out._

"Looks like they're cleaning it now. Just wasn't part of the damn plan." Abraham grunts. As he flips the RV once more he puts it back in drive and we go back a different street.

"What do we do?" Tara asks.

"We gotta take 16 north instead." Abraham says it simply.

"Just like Aaron said." Maggie agrees, but her eyes are glassy. She looks to the ground, almost fixated in a certain spot.

"Just like Aaron said." Sasha echoes the words.

Then we drive silently for what feels like a few miles. I don't know; I'm not good with measuring space. But our drive is interrupted once again as someone runs into the middle of the road, waving his hands manically in the air.

"Mother _dick_!" Abraham shouts, and slams down on the brake again. We're all pulled forward harshly in our seats and groan. The RV is put in park and we all head out, weapons drawn. Just in case.

"Who th'hell are ya?!" Daryl calls out. He went out the door first, his crossbow pointed proudly at the new guy.

"Er-Er-Eric." He stutters, hands held in the air in surrender. With at least six guns pointed at him, I'm not surprised. "Where's Aaron?"

"He's with some of ours. They were thrown off the road down 23 north." Abraham answers, gun still pointed at Eric.

"Why 23?" Eric seems genuinely worried. He slowly pulls his hands down, as do the guns. "We never cleared that."

"We know." Maggie says. "They'll find us. They always do."

"There's an empty building just down this road. We've been there before, it's empty. Aaron will know to meet us there." Eric explains quickly, pointing behind him. "It's safe, I promise."

Though we're normally more cautious, we have no choice. We don't have a map, we don't have Rick, and there's nowhere else to go.

"Show us the way." Abraham speaks for us. His voice doesn't sound sure, but that doesn't seem to bother Eric.

"I can." Eric nods, then blushes slightly in embarrassment. "But you guys kinda took my car. And the buildings kinda far."

 _Oh, yeah. The RV. Whoops._

We're all silent for a moment, deciding whether or not to let him with us.

But again, we're put in a tight spot. And again, Abraham speaks for us. "Hop in. Front seat."

"Th-thank you." Eric says. We hop into the RV first, Abraham and Eric coming in last. The ride, though very awkward and quiet, is quick and we make it to a dark building towards the end of an old, abandoned town. In front of the dark building are the remnants what seem to be a car crash, the hunks of broken metal and tires lying on the street.

"There's an open garage right next to it." Eric points to the open space.

"Got it." Abraham gruff out. He parks it and we all pile out. Daryl and Carol go out first into the dark, making sure that it's safe for us. When they signal us out, we have to pass by the fucked up cars and tires, careful where we step. Most of us are fine. Eric isn't.

"Ah!" He manages to step wrong and go to the ground, hissing through his teeth in pain. His hands immediately go to his ankle, holding it tightly.

"You okay, man?" Daryl asks, going over to the man on the ground. _Obviously not._

"It's probably just sprained. Get my pack off." Eric huffs out. Daryl hastily yanks the backpack from his shoulders and hands it to Eric. He grabs something out- a flare gun, just like the one Aaron had. He points it to the sky and pulls the trigger. The bright orange light blinds me for a moment as the flare flies through night.

"Now they know where we are." Eric sighs through his pain. "They can find us. Can I get a hand up?"

Maggie goes over to him and pulls him up, wrapping an arm over his shoulder and letting him rest his weight against her. They hobble together toward the door, and Daryl opens the door and lets us in.

It's dark as hell, but once we get situated we light a few candles and drop our supplies down in the main room. Maggie takes Eric into the back room, allowing him some privacy while she takes care of his ankle.

And we all wait for the rest of us. For our group to come back.

* * *

It's a while before they return. I almost begin to worry at the amount of time that passes. But I keep my thoughts in check. _They've had worse. They're fine… I hope._

And next thing you know, the signal is echoing down the street. The old whistle that we used to use at the prison all the time. The voice is distinctly Ricks. Carl, Maggie, and I bound from our seats and go to the sound. Daryl comes out too, whistling back to them.

"Dad!" Carl says gleefully, giving Rick a big hug. I head over to mom and do the same.

"You okay?" She asks me, her hands moving down my arms and her eyes peering around, looking for any marks. I nod strongly for her answer, and she hugs me again.

"Your sister okay?" Rick asks Carl, still hugging his son tightly.

"Yeah, we're fine." Carl assures. As a group we begin to walk into the building.

"Eric? Eric?" Aaron calls out, his voice riddled with worry. "Eric?"

"In here." Eric calls. Aaron runs to the other room in relief. The group lets them have their moment, their relief of finding each other again. Just like we did.

As we settle back in, I sit on some hunk of rusted metal, mom following suit. She settles beside me and grabs my hand. She holds it tightly, and I'm grateful for the lifeline. I let myself breathe a deep sigh of relief. _We're okay. We made it out here. We're alive._

"Excuse me." Aaron calls out for our attention, standing in the doorway of Eric's room. "Excuse me. Everyone."

He looks to all of us, an unmeasurable amount of gratitude in his features. " _Thank you_. You saved Eric. I owe you. All of you. And I will make sure that debt is paid in full when we get to our community."

He smiles to all of us. "When we get to _Alexandria_."

 _Alexandria. It has a name. Alexandria._

 _Maybe he's not lying after all._

"Now, I'm not sure about you, but I'd rather not do any more driving tonight. Um, maybe we can hit the road tomorrow morning." Aaron chuckles a little bit in the middle. I almost crack a smile.

"That sounds fine." Rick agrees. Like look, bewildered, to him. But then I realize, _he sees it too. That this is_ _ **real**_ _._ "But if we're staying here for the night, you're sleepin' over there." And he points to a corner of the room. _Ah, there's my paranoid leader again_.

"You _really_ think we gotta do that?" Maggie asks, with disdain.

"It's the safe play. We don't know you."

This strikes a chord in Aaron. "The only way you're gonna stop me from being with him right now is by _shooting me_."

 _Oh. They're together. Cool_

Aaron begins to head back to his boyfriends room, attempting to pass by Rick. Glenn holds him back.

"Rick," Glenn whispers, still holding back Aaron, "he told us where the camp is. And he really was only traveling with one other person. They're both unarmed. One of them has a broken ankle. I want us to be safe, too."

While he vouches for the two, we all watch silently. Waiting to see what Rick has to say. Moms grip on my hand tightens a little, and I know what she hopes for. She's wishing that he'll say okay. And though I can't wrap my mind over the thought of this _Alexandria_ , I think I want it, too. So I give hers a half-hearted squeeze back.

"I can't give up anything else." Glenn tells Rick through clenched teeth. "I know what I said, but it does matter."

And Rick thinks for a moment, pondering to himself. We so wait anxiously for his response.

And he nods to Glenn's words. "All right." So Glenn takes his hand off of Aaron, and he sprints back to the back room. The rest of us hunker down for the night here, attempting to get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long, stressful, I-don't-know-how-I'm-going-to-function day.

* * *

The next morning is more relaxed than normal. At least for the beginning. We don't hurry like we normally do. For the most part, we would all wake at daybreak and hit the road, thirsty and hungry. Today, we get up after the sun has risen and we eat out of two cans of peaches (and the small jar of applesauce is given to baby Judy.)

When we finally hit the road in the RV and the car, there's this sort of... Calm and unease amongst us. Were we happy about going to Alexandria? Scared? Nervous? Is it even real? Is what Aaron and Eric told us a complete lie? Maybe a bit of everything. I know that I'm feeling every little bit of it all.

We're on the road for a few hours- and for every second my stomach was twisted in knots- before the RV decided to stop working. So we take a quick break and step outside onto the road. Aaron tells us that we're so close to Alexandria that if we really wanted to walk, we would probably get there before the sun goes down.

Apparently, Glenn knows how to work on RVs, so he puts a new something-or-other in it whilst the rest of us hang around. I'm resting against the car with mom, Rick, and Carl (who's holding Judith in his arms.)

"The fights over." Mom says, looking to Rick but I know it's meant for both of us. She knows how well I sleep, how guarded I am. The same is for him; always looking over his shoulder, always thinking fifteen steps ahead. Never thinking he could rest. "You gotta let it go. I know it's hard. After it's kept you... Warm, and fed, and alive. But, the fight... It turns on you. You gotta let it go."

I look down to my hands in my lap. They're shaking. I tighten them into fists to stop it, but it doesn't. I don't know how to stop it. _I can't think that. There's always a fight._

"That's what Bob was trying to tell me back at the church." Rick answers. "What to risk. When it's safe. When to let someone in." Mom gives a smile to him at that.

 _What? What was that look for? Excuse me!_

He smiles back momentarily before his face turns into a frown. "The rules keep changing."

The smile is still planted on her face as she adds, "They did for me." Her eyes to down to his hand that rests on the good of the car, and she softly rests hers on his. He doesn't object.

 _Oh my god. Are they F-L-I-R-T-I-N-G?!_

Silently, I begin to slap Carls shoulder behind me. I watch his eyes follow the hands and bug out of his head. _Right? What is this?_ And the best part is that the two don't seem to realize that we're watching them.

Suddenly the engine of the RV roars to life and we all begin to cheer. However, I keep my eyes on their hands, watching as they jump away from each other like they were on fire. With a chuckle, mom turns to the rest of the group and claps along with them.

"Before we get going, I gotta take a moment." Rick tells her. She nods to him and he walks to the group.

My eyes bore into the back of her head while her gaze follows him. When she turns back to look at us kids, she raises an eyebrow. "What?"

My wide eyes look from her to Ricks' retreating figure to the rest of us. I give nonchalant-not so-nonchalant shrug of my shoulders, and walk to the other side of the road, where the metal barriers are. We're high up on a hill, and can see _everything_ from here. All these monuments and tourist attractions in front of my eyes. It's a gorgeous sight.

"Now you can say that you've been to DC." Glenn strides beside me, taking in the view.

I nod to him. It reminds me of the conversation we had back in the church. I was supposed to tell him about cake in explicit detail. I never did.

"It's beautiful here. I've never seen a view like this." He comments, his hands resting on the barrier. "I wonder what it looks like from Alexandria."

 _Me too._

He gives me a sweet smile; one of those gentle, knowing, real smiles that only Glenn could make. "C'mon, we need to get going." His hand goes to my back and we walk together to the RV. He sits with Maggie once we sit down, but they're only across the table from me. On my side is Carol.

The ten minute drive there is quiet, but not our normal quiet. This one is full tension and nervousness, so much so that it could be cut with a knife. The prospect of an _actual_ community is so unbelievable, and so scary that most of us would probably rather fight a whole herd on our own. I know that I would.

But then we come up to gates. _Actual gates_. And this huge wall around, built with stainless steel. _Just like Aaron said. This is real. Oh god, this is_ _ **real**_ _._

I look to the couple in the back, resting on the bed because of Eric's ankle. I can hear a laugh come from him and they hold hands. "Home." I hear Eric say. _It's real_. I have to repeat the mantra to myself.

And the best part of this? There are _children laughing_. I can hear it from here, with the windows down in the RV. I can hear them running around in grass, giggling as they play some version of tag. My heart leaps out of my chest and I think again, _it's real!_

We all get out of the RV and car, moving closer to the gate. When mom gets out of the car, I run over to her.

 _Ohmygod mom! Do you see this? Do you hear this? It's a real place._

"Excited?" She asks me. We walk together to the gate and my swinging hand meets her own. I grip hers tightly. _Scared._

 _I'm so scared._

* * *

 _A/N: FINALLY! WE'RE HERE, EVERYONE! I am SO fucking excited for the next chapter! Anyways, please tell me if you all liked this one! I love getting reviews and PMs from all of you :)_


	9. Chapter 9: New Beginnings

_A/N: Happy late Thanksgiving, everyone! I got a chapter out in under a month; that's good, right?! It's something, at least._

 _Can I just say how happy I am that this is out? I know I keep saying it time and time again, but I am SO EXCITED for Alexandria. After this first meeting, I STILL have so much more to add. There's definitely going to be some separate plots for Alyssa, so I'm thrilled to share it with all of you! Plus, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I put in a little Carl and Alyssa scene in here ;) Here ya go, darlings!_

* * *

The gate opens for us, loud and squeaky. I look around for any sign of walkers hearing it. There aren't any around. Still, my hand holds the hilt of my knife in its sheath, steady as a rock. The other one still holds moms, but I'm certain when she let's go that it will quiver immensely.

Eric goes through first, while it's only open about a third of the way through. A loud thump behind me makes me swiftly swing around and grab my knife out. It's only an opossum, which Daryl quickly shoots with his crossbow. It dies with a loud squeal, and Daryl grabs the carcass just as the gate is fully open. The man behind it gives an unsure look to us, mostly aimed at the hunter. I can see his hand slightly twitch at the base of his rifle.

"We brought dinner." Daryl holds up the opossum by the tail. The Alexandrian just scrunches his nose in disgust.

"It's okay." Aaron tells his friend. "Come on in, guys." He beckons us over to the other side. My breathing picks up heavily.

I look behind him, to the lush green grass and the perfectly cut rose bushes and the growing flowers and-.

There's houses, _so many houses_ , lined up and down the paved streets. On top of each house are solar panels, meaning electricity. Towards the middle-ish area of Alexandria is a large pond, surrounded by lush trees that are still alive, deep green and leafy. _A genuine gated community. It's so clean here._

We slowly, cautiously follow Aaron inside. I still hold my knife in my hand, not daring to put it down anytime soon. Just like the others carrying their guns. The rifles are still in hands, not with the safety off and on their backs. _In case if things go south_.

The new Alexandrian begins to close the gate, and I watch despairingly as the RV and car are getting closed off from my view. I feel terrified at the thought of losing those. _What if they're stolen? We need those!_

What I notice of the large gate is that there are two manual parts to it; bars and the wall. The bars of it get closed first, which need to be pulled in and locked. The wall part has the same procedure. New Guy pulls the bars into place and locks it before turning to us.

"Before we take this any further, I need you to turn over your weapons." New Guy tells us. And I feel scared, so scared. _No. We need these. I need these. This isn't how it works nowadays._

My grip on my knife instantly tightens, to the point where my nails are harshly digging themselves into my skin. Most likely it'll draw blood. I don't care.

"To stay, you hand them over." He tells us.

"We don't know if we want to stay." Rick says, his voice harsh and leader-like. _Thank you. I've only been here two minutes and already I feel overwhelmed._

"It's fine, Nicholas." Aaron softly tells his friend.

"If we were gonna use them, we would have started already." Rick adds. _Ha, the look on Nick's face!_

"Let them talk to Deanna first." Aaron gives Rick a look of, "not helping your case."

"Who's Deeeaanna?" Abraham asks, his voice gruff, but he says the name hilariously. I try not to laugh.

"She knows everything you'd want to know about this place." Aaron answers, then turns to Rick. "Rick, why don't you start?"

 _What, we're going alone? Like an interview? No way, no how, bucko.  
_

A snarling behind us catches my ear, as it does the others. Rick gives a nod to the back of our group. "Sasha."

She gets the drift and quickly pulls her gun to her shoulder, taking a single shot to kill the walker through the bars.

Nicholas gives us one last look of distrust before going back to the gate, slowly closing the rest of it up before anybody else begins to take pot shots at random walkers.

"It's a good thing we're here." Rick gives a smug look to Nick at the gate, but Aaron beckons us over and we follow him to what looks like a town hall or something. _Really? What use is a town hall nowadays? Please tell me these people at least have an armory._ _ **Something**_ _important to legitimate survival._

"Here's the place." Aaron heads over to the door, white as snow like it's thoroughly cleaned. And that is just mind-boggling. "Uh, these are basically interviews. She'll want to talk to all of you, individually. Rick should start us off. Rick?"

Our leader nods and he hands Judith over to Carl. He heads to the door and opens it, giving the rest of us a look we're all too familiar with. _Keep your guard up. You never know what might happen._ And the door swings shut behind him, leaving the rest of us to wait.

A few minutes go by, nothing too crazy, before he steps back out. When he does, we all pique up and wait for what he has to say.

But he says nothing at all. He looks puzzled more than anything. He goes over to mom and his hand lands on her shoulder. _You're next_.

She gives him a nod and she goes to the door. Before she heads in, she turns to me and sends me a wink. I give a weak smile in response. _I feel sick_.

And that's how it goes. One by one, we're all interviewed by this, "Deanna," person. I silently opt to take the last turn for the group. Maggie goes before me.

Maggie opens the door for me, waving to the open space behind her. With shaking hands (my knife still in one of them,) I pass by her and walk into a huge room, brightly lit and professionally decorated. I move to the right, which I assume serves as a library with a great amount of books. In between two bookcases are large, gorgeous windows. There's a couch that points to the window, and a single, comfy chair pointing to the couch. And in between both is a clear glass coffee table. _It's gorgeous_.

And a woman pops out from nowhere (it really is a _huge_ place,) smiling at me with a glass of water in her hand.

"Hi, I'm Deanna Monroe." She tells me. "Sorry about the wait, I was a bit parched."

 _Water. Whenever someone needs it_.

I look to the glass, thirsty all well. But I push the thought out of my head. _You don't need it. You don't need it. You had some yesterday_. From the corner of my eye, I see Maggie is still at the door, her hand on the knob and on the outside of it, but watching me. Waiting.

"And your name is..?" Deanna awaits my answer. Instead I keep quiet. I move my lips, as if to mouth it out, but instead I look like a fish out of water. My heart hammers in my chest and my hand squeezes the hilt of the knife. _I can't do this. Oh god_.

"You don't need to be scared; I'm not going to hurt you." Deanna sets the glass down on the coffee table as she looks to me, attempting to show some form of comfort in her old features. "No one here will ever do that, to any of your group."

My eyes look to the floor quickly. _I can't do this. It's too much_.

"Can I stay?" Maggie comes in quickly, the door swinging shut behind her loudly.

"What?" Deanna asks, her gaze shifting from me to Maggie.

"Can I stay? For the interview." Maggie looks to me consolingly. "She's selectively mute; you won't get anything outta her."

Deanna thinks for a moment but gives a nod to her request. She points to the couch. "You two can sit here. I'll take the chair."

I scurry over to the couch quickly, thankful for the momentary silence as Maggie and I settle into the marshmallow-like cushion.

Maggie's hand goes to mine before we start talking, the one that holds the knife. Her eyes are soft as they point down to my blade and back to my hazel orbs. I catch the drift and slowly set my knife back into my sheath with a shaky hand. She goes to hold my hand with both of hers and gives me a reassuring smile.

Deanna comes back into the room with a plate of- _What? Cookies?! Who the hell makes chocolate chip cookies in an apocalypse?!  
_

"In case either of you want any." She sets it in front of us with a warm smile. "A little welcoming gift for our community. Feel free to take as many as you want."

She sets down a camera on the bookshelf behind her, pointing it to us. I raise an eyebrow to Maggie, and she tells me, "She'll ask in a minute."

Deanna goes on the chair opposite us with a practiced ease, smoothing out the wrinkles of her pants with delicate hands.

"I hope you don't mind me filming this." She points to the camera with a manicured finger. _A manicure_. "We're all about transparency here. I film all of the interviews; if you ever want to see any of them, feel free to ask me."

I bob my head to the request. I don't really care; it's not like I'm gonna talk to her. It'll be a boring video. Nothing YouTube worthy.

"So, what's your name?" She looks directly to me as she asks. A lump forms in my throat and I look to Maggie.

"Her name is Alyssa." Her southern accent is calming to me. _Something I know. Something normal._

"Alyssa." Deanna repeats. "What a beautiful name." I notice how the smile stays on her face. I can't tell if it's forced or not. _Maybe she's just really happy all the time. Maybe it's a façade._ "How old are you?"

Maggie looks to me questioningly. I shrug my shoulders, my palms bent at my wrist horizontally to the ceiling. _Lost count._

"We're not sure." Maggie says slowly, her eyes going from my features back to Deanna. "It's kind of impossible to keep track of without a calendar." She goes back to me. "Fourteen, maybe? Fifteen? Sixteen?"

I give another shrug of my head, my eyebrows slightly raising at the motion. I point all my fingers out with one hand questioningly.

"Fifteen sounds about right. Or as close to her real age as we're all gonna get."

"Right. About the same age as the kid in the hat." I look from Maggie to Deanna with a nod. _Probably._

"You're at the perfect age for our teen classes." Deanna says. _What?_

The expression on my face send the message. "Let me explain. We have a couple other kids here; many still young, so we try to do school classes every few days in the morning. Normal stuff, like math and english and science. We have four teenagers here- six including you and Carl- that go to the evening classes, learning the same material."

 _Classes? Excuse me? Why would I learn about the power of triangles when there are_ _ **undead**_ _ **people**_ _on my doorstep?_ Internally I fume at the thought. _How could they be so stupid?_ Externally, however, I just shrug at the mention.

"Well, it's always something to consider. We wouldn't want to force you into doing anything you don't want to. We aren't that kind of people." With that, I relax a little bit. _So they aren't_ _ **totally**_ _crazy. Just mostly_.

"Now, Alyssa, do you have any family with you?"

I nod vigorously to the question. Of course, I _**always** _ have mom, but I've begun to consider the whole group my family. We've been through hell and back together. We've lost together. We've _lived_ together. We're all connected now.

"Her mom is with us, Michonne." Maggie answers for me.

"I spoke with her earlier." Deanna nods. "She seems like a wonderful woman and parent. Before or after?"

"After." Another nod from Deanna.

I squeeze Maggie's hand and tug it so she looks at me. She gives me a look of confusion, but I give her a smile. I take my other hand and point to her sharply.

"What are you saying?" Deanna asks. Maggie still seems confused by the gesture. So I put my finger down and instead hug her side tightly, hopefully giving an indication to who my family is. I press a kiss to her cheek and look to her expectantly.

"I see." Deanna says, and I look over to her. And there it is again; that smile. "She's your family too."

I nod energetically and point to the door I walked into earlier. And then with both hands I attempt to make a huge circle. _All of them_.

"They're _all_ your family." Deanna corrects. I nod again, this time smiling. "I've asked that question to _all_ of you here. And I've gotten the same response each time."

Yet again my head bobs, my eyes glowing earnestly. _They are_ _ **all**_ _my family. Every single one of them._

"Sounds like I want to be part of this family." Deanna smiles to me and Maggie. Maggie presses a soft kiss to my forehead, a gesture of kindness for calling her my kin. I snuggle to her side momentarily, basking in the moment. It's almost peaceful.

But the moment doesn't last too long. Deanna stands up and the two of us follow suit. "I think I got all I needed here. Thank you two."

She begins to head toward the door, waiting for us to follow. Before I walk with the others, though, I gingerly pick up a chocolate chip cookie. They're huge in size, and there are many little brown spots over the dough. _Just like the ones my birth mom used to make_. They're soft and easily bend when I hold it on just one side. Maggie and Deanna look to me, waiting for a reaction when I finally bit into it.

The chocolate and dough explode with flavor in my mouth. _Oh god, it's good. It's really good_. I savor all the chocolate that melts on my tongue and I, "mmm," at the sweet taste.

"My friend Jessie likes to make them." Deanna tells me. "You'll like her. She has two kids of her own so she knows how you guys like 'em."

My hand goes underneath my mouth to catch the crumbs that escape. _Delicious_. I stuff the rest into my mouth savagely, making chipmunk cheeks. I don't care about the appearance; this is the most delicious thing I've ever eaten, _ever_.

"C'mon." Maggie points her head to the door as I finish the last bite. She's smiling at me. "We still have stuff to do."

"You can take another cookie if you want though." Deanna gives me a wink. "I promise I won't tell."

I give a sheepish head shake back to her since I don't take another one. I'd probably throw up if I do.

The three of us go outside and Deanna takes us to the back of the building. One of the Alexandrians comes over with a wheel-able bin, giving us a small wave.

"This is where we need to ask you to give up the guns." Deanna projects her voice loudly. I shake my head vigorously but I don't think she sees me. That's the general consensus of the group. We don't want to lose our weapons. For all we know, they won't give them back.

"They're still your guns." Deanna explains. "You can check them out whenever you go beyond the wall. But inside here, we store them for safety."

Then some of us go to the bin, dropping each shiny weapon into it with unease. Carl beside me strides to it and drops his handguns in. He doesn't even seem _fazed_ by it. _How can you_ _ **not**_ _?_

He looks back to me and gestures me over, a smile adorning his features. _You're happy about this? How?_ Shakily, I go up to the bin and grab my Glock out of its holster. The second I drop it in I feel naked. I want to keep it. I _need_ to keep it. I don't know if we're allowed to keep our knives or not, so I put it in there as well. _So naked. This doesn't feel good. It's not right at all._

But when I put the bloody blade in the bucket, Carl grabs my hand. I look to his eyes and notice they are shining with excitement. Mine are completely different. They're dull and scared. Together we go back to our little spot in the group and wait for Carol to put her guns in the bucket.

She gives a sheepish smile to the Alexandrian as she attempts to take the large rifle off her shoulder. With clumsy hands, she grabs it and tries to shrug it off one side and manages to get the strap stuck around her arm. With an awkward laugh, she quickly shakes her arm to get the strap unstuck and she puts it on top, making sure it doesn't slide off the others. _Clumsy? Carol is many things, but clumsy isn't one of them._

"I should've brought another bin." The Alexandrian gives a laugh. _Yeah you should've._

My hand goes to my empty sheath at my side, watching as she leaves the area with our weapons. _I feel so exposed now. How do these people live without weapons?_

* * *

Two houses. Deanna gives us. _Two. Houses._ Rick and Carl went to see them with Aaron while the rest of us go to visit the pantry with Deanna. She's taking us on a little tour of Alexandria, showing us the important parts.

"We have a system in place to ration all of this." She explains to us as we walk around. "Olivia has a checklist for it. You need anything, you go to her."

I want to cry at how much food there is. _Holy. Shit._

There's cans upon cans of everything. Tiny packets of jell-o, insta mashed potatoes, veggies, even _chicken_. They have some livestock somewhere (Deanna didn't go into much detail,) but apparently there's not as much as they wanted. However, I can count at least twelve dead chickens and a pile of eggs stored away in the corner of the pantry.

"This is only the food portion." Olivia says, fixing her glasses to rest on her nose. "We have toilet paper, paper towels, shampoo, conditioner... All the cleaning supplies and odds and ends, in another garage. Jessie should be bringing some stuff over to your houses now."

I can't begin to comprehend how much food I'm surrounded by. And the thought of having _toilet paper again_? Oh, how I've missed Charmin.

I take a step away from the shelves and the rest of the people. _This is too much for me._

As the garage door opens, I jump at the sudden noise. It's Aaron, back from showing Rick and Carl the houses.

"They're settling in now." Aaron tells Deanna quietly, just above a whisper. She nods to him.

"When you're all ready, we'll go visit the other pantry." Deanna tells us. And slowly we all head to her and Aaron. "Before we go, does anyone else want to see your new homes?"

I hop out of the line quickly, almost jumping over to the two. _I can't handle all of this right now.  
_

Deanna gives a nod to my enthusiastic move out of line. "Anyone else?"

The rest of my group shake their heads. Aaron looks over to me. "Looks like it's just you and me, Alyssa." I shrug.

The doors open again and Deanna and the rest of the group take a left, whereas Aaron and I take the right.

The walk is silent as we trek through the streets of Alexandria. My eyes hone in on every little detail of the streets, the greens, and the houses. Each house looks the same, though. Only tiny differences set them apart, like the color of the roof being a shade off or the number of windows on the second floor.

I'm looking at the top of the houses for so long that I almost miss the smudge of color flying from behind a house. I stop moving and tap Aaron's arm furiously, pointing to the quick person running.

"What?" He asks. Then he follows my index finger as the blob moves fast past the next house, almost past my line of sight. "Oh, that's just Sam."

I raise an eyebrow to him. As we begin walking again, he explains further, "Sam is one of the four teens that we have here. He doesn't like the walls as much as you guys like being split apart."

 _Oh. I understand that. I feel trapped in here, too._

So I nod to the explanation. "You'll meet him soon enough. He's more of a lone wolf than anything, though. No family. He came in on his own."

 _Awe, that sucks._

"Ah, here we are." Aaron points to the last two at the end of the road, almost right beside the walls. _They are_ _ **huge**_ _. And they're both ours_. My mouth gapes in surprise. "C'mon." He jerks his head to the last one and we go to the door together. He knocks on it for us.

Carl opens the door, a large grin playing on his face. "Room for one more?" Aaron gestures to me.

"Of course. Come in." Carl answers. He opens the door fully to let me in. He tells Aaron a quick thank you for bringing me over before the Alexandrian leaves and he shuts the door.

My eyes roam over the rooms, bulging out of my head as I see the vast space that's, for the most part, empty. There's a kitchen to my right, open and spacious, and the biggest living room I've ever seen to my left. Near the back door there's a set of stairs leading up to the second level. Across from them is a closed off room, most likely a bedroom, because everything else is open. I can hear the sound of a shower running.

"What do you think?" Carl asks behind me, his arms wrapping behind my figure so I lean into him. "Huge, right? Like a mansion."

I nod, careful not to hit him with the back of my head. _They can't be serious. And we get_ _ **two of these!**_

"Dad's taking a shower right now in the master bedroom. They're connected. Wanna see upstairs?"

He lets his arms drop from around me, but he intertwines our fingers together as he steps in front of me, waggling his eyebrows for effect. I give a somewhat excited shrug of my shoulders to the request. He pulls me along as we go up the stairs to the hallway.

There's two more bedrooms up here, each connected to their own tiny bathroom. One bedroom has a twin bed, the other has a queen-sized bed. The bathrooms both consist of a toilet, sink, and a shower with a curtain. At the end of the hallway are what looks to be like an old study, but there's no desk left in it.

Carls' hand tugs me over into the room with the twin bed and we flop on it.

"So? Whatddya think?" His arm is flung over my shoulder and his fingers lightly ghost over my skin, going up and down slowly. I revel in the touch.

I don't say anything but instead snuggle closer to him, my head curving into the crook of his neck. I press a kiss to his skin before I sigh into it.

"You know what I kind of want to do?" He asks. I look up at his face. "Shower."

I chuckle. "What?" He teases. "Being clean is a sin?"

 _Sure, Carl. Sure it is._

"Well," he stands up from his spot and I sit up in front of him, "if it is, I reeeeeally want to sin. C'mon, you get this one. I'll take the other shower."

He stands in front of my and grabs my hands, leaning down to give me a peck on the lips. However, I want more than just a peck. So as he leaves my lips, I grab him again with my own, leaning in to give him a strong kiss. I let go of his hands and tangle them in his hair, tugging his face down to mine harshly. He grips my hips tightly in the process, making me gasp in surprise. With my mouth slightly agape, Carl makes the decision to lightly bite my bottom lip, his tongue lightly trailing along it as his hands roam my back. _Holy shit_. He's never done that before. I think I like it. I moan into his mouth as he bites my lip again, this time a bit harder; possessive and dominant. _I definitely like it._

With one last hard peck, I open my eyes and look up to him. With a foggy mind, he stands up straight again, his arms lazily swinging back to his sides. "That was-"

My tongue glides along my bottom lip slowly, my eyes watching his darkly. I notice how nervous-yet-wanting he seems respond at the action.

"You are _not_ helping." He nearly growls out. Though the growl is _not_ angry. It's heavy, as his voice is, with desire. And I'm sure if I said anything my voice would be too.

"Okay, showering. I'm gonna shower." He tells me, his arm pointing to the door. He quickly makes a couple steps toward the door. _A cold one_ , I think slyly to myself. I give him a small wave of my hand as he leaves the room, swinging the wood shut behind him.

As I stand up, I notice how hard my heart is pounding in my chest from the quick make-out session. My brain is hazy with the feel of his tongue trailing along my lip.

 _Okay, I'm supposed to be showering. Gotta shower. Squeaky clean, or some shit._

I stand up from the bed and head into the small bathroom, surveying the shower that took up most of the right side. The walls are all the same peach-color, with the fixtures a dark brown. _Wow, what a_ _ **great**_ _color scheme_.

I strip out of my dirty clothes and toss them into the corner, and I turn the shower on. And it _runs_. It doesn't take long for it to warm up. As I step into the water, I take note of how hot it is. I can feel my skin burning. I don't care.

I take my damn time under the scorching water. It's been so long since I took a shower, a _real_ shower. And in here are so many products, all fancy scents and high-end brands. The shampoo I use is citrus scented, and the conditioner is mint. The body wash is some cucumber thing. And there's three different loofas hanging on a shower hook, each a different color. On the side of the shower, away from the other products, is a bottle of shaving cream and a razor. _Why would they put all this stuff in here when no one even lived here? They really had that much to waste?_ But still, I take advantage of it and begin to shave my underarms and legs. I've never done it before, and I already notice tiny scarlet marks along my newly naked legs. I don't even care about it. I notice that the scent for the cream is strawberry tangerine. Citrus, mint, cucumber, and strawberry tangerine. _I'm gonna walk out of here smelling like some sort of cheap fruit salad!_

By the time I'm done, the bathroom is filled with steam and the mirror on the wall has fogged up completely. I wipe a section of it so I see my reflection. My hazel eyes are as dull as I thought they would be. However, my face looks brighter than before. It must be from the fact that I'm no longer wearing a layer of dirt and blood on my skin anymore. It almost makes me feel bare. And I notice that my legs are burning from the choppy shaving job I did.

I quickly get dressed and make my way to the other room to wait for Carl. I hear the shower running still, so I head down the stairs on my own and find myself in an awkward predicament.

Rick, clean shaven and towards the end of a haircut, and a blonde woman behind him, holding a pair of scissors to his hair. They both turn to me, and I have a, "deer in the headlights," look.

"Hey." Ricks gruff voice says to me. I wave from my spot. The blonde gives two pats on his shoulders and he takes it as a sign that he's finished. He stands up and gives her the towel that was previously perched on his shoulders to catch hair.

"Alyssa, this is Jessie." He gestures to the blonde behind him. "Jessie, this is my friends daughter."

"Nice to meet you." She says curtly, a smile on her face as she shakes out loose hair out of the towel. I just give a nod in response. I think of the cookie I had earlier. Deanna said that Jessie made them.

"She used to be a hair stylist before this." Rick tells me, striding over to my side of the room. "She just made me look twenty years younger."

Jessie chuckles at the compliment. "Well, anyone with a good pair of scissors can do that."

His hand runs through his hair, which is visibly much shorter than yesterday. I don't know how I feel about it just yet. And the _**beard**_! The nonexistent beard! He looks completely different from this morning. I wonder if he feels as naked as I do.

My hands go to his cheeks, ghosting over where his graying hair would normally be. He gives a deep chuckle at the action, his hands going to hold mine. "I know. It's weird." I nod animatedly and silently laugh as I drop my hands from his face.

"I don't have anywhere to be." Jessie tells me, bringing my attention back to her. "Maybe I could give you a trim too?"

The offer is met with silence. _Do I really want a haircut? I never thought I would get a haircut ever again._

"She selectively mute." Ricks tells her, and he turns back to me. This time, all he's addressing is me. In a quieter voice, he asks, "Do you want one? You don't need to take the offer if you don't want to."

My mouth opens at the question, but I don't know how to answer. _Do I?_

So I give him a shrug in response, thinking again for a moment. Then I make a decision. _Sure_. I nod to him, then to Jessie. She then pats the top of the chair, signaling me to sit.

"I'm gonna go check on Carl." Rick tells me. "You gonna be okay on your own down here?" And again I nod. _I can do this_. He gives me a half-hug as he walks away from us and up the stairs.

"So, anything in mind?" Jessie asks as I sit down. "Bangs, layers, framing your face, anything?"

I quickly shake my head to all the suggestions. _Way too many options._

"Okay, that was too fast." She laughs to my response. "How about this?" She ruffles through a box on the ground. _How did I not notice that before? It's huge!_

The box has toilet paper, paper towels, baby toys and food, aluminum foil, _everything_. It's like someone just went to Stop and Shop. At the bottom is an old People! magazine, which is what Jessie fishes out. I see 2010 printed on the front cover. Something like, "2010's Hottest Artists!"

"Here, pick a cut and I'll do it for you." She hands me the crumpled paper, and I gingerly flip through it, looking at all the celebrity cuts. Most of them are either too long or too short for my liking, but I come across one that sticks out to me. _Rose McGowan_ is printed boldly underneath the photo. Her hair is layered yet short as it stops at shoulder length. The front strands are slightly shorter than the rest, framing her slim face. Her flaming red hair is gorgeous and curly, a beautiful eye catcher. From the tiny description, she used to be on a show called Charmed. It was a, "Where Are They Now?" story.

I point to the picture, and Jessie takes the magazine from my hands. "Short now, huh?"

I nod and run my finger through my long hair. _I'm gonna miss it_. This mop of brown has almost grown down to the small of my back. It's going to feel so weird without it. But I feel like I need it. _Maybe if I shock myself like this, I'll genuinely feel better about moving in to a place like this. A place where mansions and haircuts are given away at will, and twelve chickens are considered a bad amount of food._

She puts the towel on my shoulders, flicking my hair onto it with practiced ease. Her hands card through the locks, shaking it out and separating the strands. With a comb and some clips she grabbed out of the box, she begins to separate my hair into different sections and takes the scissors to the back of my head. And thus the cut begins.

 _Snip, snip, snip_. The quiet sound fills my ears, and I begins to feel the differences immediately. With long hair, I couldn't tell how heavy it was. With the short strands being made, it's like ten pounds was lost in the fractions of a millisecond. Each _snip_ takes a literal weight off my shoulders, and I'm not sure whether it's a good thing or not.

When Jessie's finished, I feel completely naked. My normal chocolate brown locks are at my shoulders instead of my back, no longer covering me. I feel exposed to the world, not shrouded away as I like to be. She hands me a mirror to look into, and I gasp at how different I look.

It's almost like looking at a new person. _My hair! I want it back, I want it back_. I repeat the mantra in my head. Why the _hell_ did I think this would shock me into liking Alexandria?

But as I twist my head in the reflection, I begin to enjoy the way my hair flips around my face. How each time I cock my head to the side, the short locks slide from behind my ear and down to my face. _Okay, maybe it's not so bad._

"I'm taking that as a, 'you like it,'?" Jessie asks. She takes the towel from my shoulder and shake it out, letting the cut strands litter the floor. _Look at how long it was_!

I nod to the question, giving an awkward smile to her.

My eyes find my reflection in the mirror again. They're still dull. _New cut, new me._

 _Not really._

* * *

 _A/N: Soooo? Do you like it? Do ya, do ya, do ya?! Alyssa and Carl will get many more make-out sessions like this (exciting, huh?) And they'll meet the other teens next chapter. That'll be a blast too!_

 _And, in case you're wondering, this is what Alyssa's new hair looks like (y'know, besides being red and curly.) ._

 _Feel free to send me a review or a PM :)_


	10. Chapter 10: Nightmares

_A/N: Hey everyone! It's only been about a week since the last update but for once I've actually been writing throughout the week! And, let me admit right now, I totally lied last week. I said that we would meet the Alexandrian teens this chap, but that's going to be NEXT week. I felt that this needed to be given it's own limelight, so I gave it one._

 _Also, I read a review last week about the new OC, Sam, and how it would probably get a little confusing because there's already a Sam in the TWD universe. That new character I'm adding isn't actually my own. I was just given permission by his creator to use him in this story. So there is no way I'm changing his name. I need to respect it, so Sam is going to stay as Sam. It may be confusing at some points but I'm going to explain stuff in the story to differentiate between the two (I mean, one is a teen and the other is a child, so it's not going to be too hard.)_

 _Also, I'm not going to lie, the end of this chapter is kind of freaky. The title gives it away, but still..._

* * *

More of our people slowly trickle into our new, "home." Deanna, Carol said, began to give them jobs. One by one, she's telling all of them what their new duties are. Carol is a new cooker/housewife; it's the new appearance she's keeping up. She tells me that that's how she's going to play Alexandria. Act like she's useless outside the gates, learn every little detail from the inside. I think it's smart, albeit dangerous.

Right now, the only people back are Judith, Daryl, and Carol. Those two were easy enough for Deanna to put down, and it's not like the baby is picking up an axe any time soon. Daryl will be a scavenger and go outside the gates once our group has, "officially settled in."

Currently the five of us, plus the baby, are lounging on the porch. Rick is slowly walking with Judith in his arms, rocking her gently. Daryl is sifting through opossum guts. He stabbed the dead carcass, sliced open the belly, and is yanking out the innards piece by piece, staining the bright white paint of the porch to red. Carol just walked out to us; she took a shower earlier and changed her shirt. And Carl and I are sitting on the rocking chair, swaying back and forth in the light breeze. I have my head resting in his lap, my legs kicked up comfortably. One hand rests on his knee. His hand lightly runs through my new short hair. He told me earlier that, "You look beautiful with it, it's just so _different_ now! Let me touch it." And of course I let him. _Dork_.

Though I don't follow his eyes, I can tell that they're trained on the other house beside us. _Our_ other house. None of us have actually been through it yet. Not that we _needed_ to. I mean, we've only been here for maybe four hours. Everything feels so much different now. We haven't even been here a full _day_ and Alexandria has already changed our lives.

"You can look." Rick says in our direction. "Just be quick."

"Okay." Carl nods. His hand leaves my hair and gives a quick pat to my shoulder, a signal to get up. I groan irritably but stand up from my spot. He and I walk to the other house, and after a moment Carol joins us.

The set up in here is much different from the other house. In this one, there's a kitchen to the left, the decor in grays and blacks, a shining silver fridge. The house we showered in is colored in peaches and browns; this one is blacks and grays. There's a door down a small corridor, which I head to and open. A garage. To the right of the kitchen is a living room with filled bookshelves and a mounted tv on the wall. Hidden in the corner of the living room is stairs to the second floor.

"These are like mansions." Carls eyes trail over everything in astonishment. I bob my head in agreement.

"And they're just giving them away." Carol ponders aloud. _Yeah, there's something really weird about that._

"You coming?" Carol points her head back to the door.

"Yeah, in a sec." Carl answers. I move over to Carol, signaling that I was going to leave with her. I give him an awkward wave as I leave the room.

She closes the door behind us, making sure not to slam it shut. I look over to our main house and notice that there's no one on the steps anymore. Not even Daryl's poor little opossum was relaxing on the porch. My guess is that more of our group came back.

As we take our time walking to the house, Carol asks me, "When are you gonna talk again?"

I just shrug. _I don't know. Maybe a day from now. A week? A year?_ _ **Never**_ _?_

"You should." She says. We step up the stairs together, my hand trailing along the railing. "We're in a new place, with new people. You gotta keep up appearances."

 _No I don't. I'm not you. I don't need to._

I just shake my head at the request. _I'd rather not._

She, with an heir of disbelief and disdain, shakes her head harshly. "One day you're gonna need to talk again. It should be sooner rather than later. We don't get to just _stop_. There's still an apocalypse happening. You need to let it go."

 _You know what? Fuck you, Carol. You, of_ _ **all**_ _people, should know I can't just, "Let it go."_

I visibly bristle towards her, my arms crossing in front of me as if I could physically deflect the words. I pick up my pace to grab the doorknob as she slows down. My eyes follow hers in between the houses, where Rick and Daryl are walking out of. Instead of following me inside, she takes a step back and goes to them.

I open the door and am greeted by _all_ of the group examining the house. Many heads turn towards me and I give another awkward wave. Then they all go back to investigating our new, "home," with curiosity. _Get used to it. Whether or not we like it, it looks like we're stuck here for a while._

* * *

By nighttime, Maggie and Carol make dinner, which, to me, was an absolute _feast_. For our rations today, Deanna told us to take whatever we wanted for our first official meal here. So Maggie and Carol went back down to the pantry and took a chicken, a family pack of jasmine rice, and some _fricken fresh broccoli and carrots_ for our meal tonight. All of us cramped together in the dining room, many of us standing, with our fancy plates. We all got to drink from a full jug of water as we pleased. No actual rationing tonight. Just, eat like pigs because for once, we can.

While there is so much food to eat, I barely touch any that's on my plate. I take a couple bites of the chicken, a spoonful of the rice, and three pieces of my broccoli. The same goes for my filled-to-the-brim glass of water. I take a few tiny sips throughout the meal, nothing more. As I look around, everyone is going to town on their plates, but I can't fathom eating that much. My stomach would burst the next day. Plus, I always have the voice in the back of my head, telling me, _"Something bad is going to happen and you all keep WASTING the food. That glass of water could save your life. Don't have it all. You don't need it now."_

Across from my seat is mom, slowly but surely eating every little bite on her plate. She hungrily downs her chunks of chicken, not letting any little bit go unnoticed. She surveys my food and looks up to my face, confused. "Hungry, Liz?"

I shake my head politely. She raises an eyebrow.

"Are you suuure?" She implies that I should eat more. However, I just shake my head.

"Not even one more bite?" A suggestion. And begrudgingly, I follow it. I take a small spoonful of the rice and pop it in my mouth, swallowing it quickly. She gives me a, "Really? That's it?" look, and I roll my eyes. I take another spoonful, this time a bit bigger than the last, and look to her. _Are you satisfied_ _ **now**_ _?_

"Better." Mom nods at the action, but tells me, "Keep eating. Please."

I genuinely feel like I would throw up if I ate too much more, but I take one small last bite from the chicken and another piece of broccoli, and lightly push my plate forward as a signal that I'm done. People have already begun to leave the table and set up for the night. We're all sleeping in the same house, and in the same room. We don't want us to be separated. Ever.

I notice how moms eyes look disapprovingly to the food left on my plate, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she takes it and puts the rest of it into a container and sets it in the fridge. Probably so I can eat it later. It still boggles my mind that the _fridge_ still fricken _works_.

As the rest of us leave the table, blankets and pillows are strewn across the floor and onto couches. Right now, Carl and I are sitting together on one, reading a comic he found in the other house. His arm is draped around me, and his thumb draws light circles on my hip where my shirt rides up a bit. Just a couple inches above the waistband of my jeans. I lean in to the touch happily. My head is resting comfortably on his chest, one arm holding him in a lazy hug. Every few seconds it leaves the spot to flip a page.

"How long was I in there for?" Mom walks out of the bathroom, sighing happily. In one hand is a toothbrush.

Rick looks up from Judith in her crib to mom. "Twenty minutes?"

She chuckles and wipes a bit of toothpaste off her cheek. "God, I could _not_ stop brushing."

She looks up fully at his face and goes. "Huh."

"I've never," she gives a cheeky smile and a chuckle as she points to his beard-less face. "I've never seen you face like that." She title her head to the side with a flirtatious smirk. _Oh my god. They are flirting and it's kind of adorable._ My mind goes to a hundred miles a minute of, "What if they go out? What if they actually get together? What the hell would happen?!" It makes me happy and nervous all at once.

"That's what I felt before _and_ after." Rick says, a hand goes up to his chin and rubbing where hair should have been. He goes to pass by her and get into the bathroom, but she stops him. She whispers to him, quiet enough that I can't make out the words.

A knock on the door makes everyone jump, and immediately my hand goes down to my knife. Instead it finds empty air. _Right. They took it from me. Shit_.

Rick goes to the door and opens it, revealing Deanna.

"Rick, I-" she steps in the doorway but stops immediately to look up at his new face. "Wow." She seems completely stunned and I laugh at her expression.

Rick gives a playful groans at her response and she says, "I didn't know what was under there."

She stepped through the doorway a little bit, entering the room and standing to look at both. Rick and the rest of us. "Listen, I-I don't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to step by and see how you were all settling."

Her eyes roam over all of us, a twinkle of enjoyment shining through them. She likes seeing us here.

"Oh, my. Staying together. Smart."

"No one said we couldn't." Rick shrugs.

"You said you're a family. That's what you said." Deanna gives the signature smile/smirk of hers. I swear, it's glued to her face. "Absolutely amazing to me how people with completely different backgrounds and nothing in common can become that. Don't you think?"

 _After all we've been through, it's not hard. These people are my lifeline. I would gladly die for any of them. And they would do the same for me.  
_

"Everyone said you gave them jobs." Rick says. It's a statement, but it's spoken as a question.

Deanna nods. "Mm-hmm. Yeah. It's part of this place. Looks like the communists won after all." She laughs heartily at her own joke.

"Well, you didn't give me one."

"I have." She tells him, her stance on it solid. "I just haven't told you yet. Same with Michonne. I'm closing in on something for Sasha. And I'm _just_ trying to figure out Mr. Dixon out, but I will."

She sounds so calm about it, and so firm on the subject. It's hard to try and argue with her when she can read us like a puzzle. I think I'm starting to like her.

She checks out Rick one last time slyly. "You look good." The approving nod is kind of funny to watch. It's just such a charming, playful gesture that I can't help but enjoy. _Great, I've only been here half a day and it's_ _ **already**_ _making me soft. I can't let that happen._

She tells us good night and leaves us be. Rick shuts the door behind her, locking it by the doorknob and the chain a foot above it.

"Okay, looks like it's bedtime." He tells us; like we didn't already know. One by one, the lights are getting shut off in the house and each door and window is locked and double checked. We set a chair against the door as well. _Just in case._

The whole group goes to the floor, lying down on blankets and pillows and experimentally wiggling in the spot to check for comfiness. By the time I twist into a soft, blue (and extremely fuzzy,) blanket, we're all silent and some begin drifting off.

My eyes stay fixated on the blank ceiling, my body telling me, even though it's dark out and the rest of us are falling asleep, it's not time to sleep just yet. _We need to keep watch. Someone needs to stay awake. Walkers can't get us while we're sleeping._ I tell myself that they can't get in, that they can't kill us, but the thought is always at the back of my mind. It's telling me to always be watchful. _You never truly know._

I try to keep my mind off of it and shut my eyes tightly, as if I can will myself to sleep. My ears fill with the hushed sounds of steady breathing and light snoring around me, and I find comfort in knowing that most of us will at least get an adequate amount of sleep. I don't seem to be one of them. It doesn't seem like my mind will shut out the dark thoughts or go blank for even a fraction of a second.

I twist on my side, looking over to Carls' dozing form. _It didn't take long for him to pass out._ I'm jealous. My eyes wander to the hand hanging by his side, and my own begins reaching out for it. I clasp it loosely, not wanting to cause much of a disturbance to his sleep. As I give his hand a half-hearted squeeze, I feel a lazy one in return. _Shit, I didn't want to wake you!_

But as I look to his face, I realize he's not awake. His eyes are still closed shut, no movement underneath his lids. His breathing is slow and steady, and I note the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. _Hm, maybe I just imagines it. Or maybe it was just a twitch in his sleep._ Either way, my hand is in his, and I feel a little bit better.

My index lightly roams over his calloused fingers and to his soft palm. It travels down to his wrist, where I lightly feel his pulse pumping at an easy, relaxed rhythm. _Bahbum. Bahbum._

I keep my diminishing focus on the steady beat. With each flutter of my heavy eyelids, I keep the feel of his pulse on my finger. I relax as my breathing slows and finally, I drift off into unconsciousness.

* * *

 _I'm sitting down on the porch of our new Alexandrian home, unloading my Glock. I take it apart to clean the inside thoroughly, just like I normally do. With the last click of putting the bullets in place, I stand up from the spot and brush invisible dust off my pants.  
_

 _As I walk into the house, I take note of how epithet the whole community seems to be. Our first day was yesterday and even though Deanna told everyone to give us space, we could at least hear all the chatter of the families and see certain projects that had to be hung outside, like their laundry on a clothes drying line. Out here, the lines are empty and the chatter is nonexistent. It's like a ghost town.  
_

 _I open the door and walk inside the home, and it's almost as quiet in here as it is out there._ _ **Where is everyone?**_ _  
_

 _However, it's not as empty as the outside is. To the left, in the living room, I see Glenn and Maggie lounging by the couch. It looks like Maggie takes up the whole of it, lying down on all the spot on her back. Glenn sits in front of her, kneeling in just the right spot so I can't see her face. It sounds like they may be sharing a plate of food.  
_

 _"Glenn?" I say. "Where is everyone?"  
_

 _The chewing stops and his ear cocks in my direction at the doorway.  
_

 _"C'mon," I add. "Don't bullshit me. You two are the only people I've seen all day."  
_

 _He turns fully around at the sound of my voice, and I gasp in horror.  
_

 _Glenn is no longer his normal, hopeful self. He's_ _ **dead**_ _. Tears well in my eyes as I take in the sight of dull grey eyes and a chunk of flesh missing from his neck. Blood litters his collar and the front of his shirt from harsh scratches and what looks to be a very painful bite. His hair, normally in a side swoop, is completely disheveled and from the looks of it, someone pulled out a chunk of it out._ _ **He must've fought back. Of course he fought back. Glenn!**_ _  
_

 _A sob racks through my chest as I look back to Maggie. Where I thought they were sharing a plate, it was actually walker Glenn feasting on her entrails. The copious amounts of blood being ripped out of her stomach stains the couch._ _ **So. Much. Blood**_ _. There is now a huge gaping hole where her intestines should be. Her normally kind brown eyes are fixated on the ceiling, forever staring at a single spot.  
_

 _ **No. No! This can't be happening. My worst nightmare come true.**_

 _ **Walkers got in. They're killing us. They killed us**_ _!  
_

 _"Glenn?!" I wail out, not being able to stop the tears flowing down my face. I attempt to palm them away but I can't keep up with how hard I'm crying. "Maggie?!"  
_

 _She doesn't move. That southern belle is completely lifeless, and the reality of her being dead rips through me like a knife. Glenn, however, moves away from her. His legs are contorted, one bent out to the side, the other has his femur popping out._ _ **Oh god.**_ _He begins limping toward me, an arm outstretched to grab me when he gets close.  
_

 _My hands are shaking and I can barely see through my tears, but I take my Glock out. Through his groans and hisses I hear the safety flipping off and I set a bullet in the chamber. I whimper brokenly as I point it at his head, ready to kill.  
_

 _But I don't. I just_ _ **can't**_ _. This is Glenn we're talking about. I could_ _ **never**_ _do this.  
_

 _So instead I run down the hallway, up to the stairs that would hopefully give me more space from him. I hear him behind me, his twisted limbs somehow moving fast enough to grab a wisp of my long hair trailing behind me. I drop the gun and I take the stairs two steps at a time, and like I thought, he took slower to get up. I mentally curse at the loss of my gun but I continue to run to the last room down the hall, seeing a dark figure in the room. I grab the door and swing it open behind me.  
_

 _"Mom?!" Her back is turned to me, but I could call out the slender form anywhere. "Mom, Glenn. Maggie. They-"  
_

 _And she turns to look at me._ _ **No, not again. Not her. Not my mom.**_ _  
_

 _But here she is, walking dead and limping to me with no thoughts but, "kill." I take in the bloody features and grey eyes and her missing skin. Her arms, which normally I find comfort in, are a deep red, stained with blood. Her hair, those beautiful dark dreadlocks that I love, cover her face in shadows menacingly. Her shoulder has a missing chunk of skin, and I can clearly see teeth marks around the edges. But that's only_ _ **one**_ _bite. It looks like she was dropped in a pile of walkers, seeing how many rips of cloth and scratches and bites are all over her body.  
_

 _"No..." I can't think straight anymore._ _ **My mom is dead. My mom is dead.**_

 _ **The walkers got us and three of the most important people in my life are dead.**_ _  
_

 _And then my mind goes to the Grimes boys._ _ **What about them?**_ _  
_

 _"I'm sorry." A vicious sob racks my chest. "I'm so, so sorry."  
_

 _I start to back away, my hand searching for the doorknob as she begins to run over me. She hisses at me and lunges at my body. I squeal in fear and slam the door in her face. I can hear her banging against the door as I run somewhere, anywhere else.  
_

 _The bedroom where Carl and I kissed in is the one I run to next. As I open the door I fairly hear the sound of Glenn wobbling up the stairs._ _ **Shit**_ _.  
_

 _I grab and close the door behind me, taking a single second to breathe a little bit. But, no, I don't get the luxury.  
_

 _My heart is broken for the fourth and fifth time. I look over to the bed first and note that there's a hand lying limply underneath the bed. I shrink down underneath it, flopping to my stomach and looking to the body._ _  
_

 _ **Carl.**_

 _ **No.**_ _  
_

 _My mind is so wrought with despair that my outward response is almost emotionless. No screaming, no my-heart-was-ripped-out-of-my-chest response. Just a million tears silently streaming down my face.  
_

 _He isn't an animated body like the others. No, he's_ _ **dead**_ _-dead. There's a hole right between his opened eyes, shot just once. There's a pool of blood around his head growing steadily as it pours out the wound.  
_

 _ **I can't look at this any more. I can't.**_ _  
_

 _With one sob and a heavy heave, I make it back to a standing position. When I look over the other the bed, Rick is standing stark still, looking intently at me._ _ **H**_ _ **e wasn't there before..?**_ _  
_

 _And then I realize his skin is ghostly. His eyes are sunken and there are dark circles underneath. His skin is pale and leathery. He looks like he hasn't eaten in weeks. The normally muscly arms are just skin and bones. He's so skinny and weak. With a slow blink, he points a gun straight at my face.  
_

 _"Rick..." I say cautiously. I notice how empty my voice is. With each death, a little bit of life went with it. "Please,_ _ **don't do this**_ _."  
_

 _"You're dead." The words are simple, yet they're harsh and pierce me.  
_

 _"No, I'm not. Rick!" His hand doesn't waver.  
_

 _"You're dead." He repeats. "I'm dead." My eyes roam over his skin, and there it was. A single bite mark, gushing blood from his wrist.  
_

 _"We're all dead."  
_

 _I look down to my body, and I notice that my arms go pale right before my eyes. The normal, tanned skin loses all color and all depth. It's like all my blood and my muscles were torn out of me, leaving only bone and dry skin. I hold my arms out in horror and in that moment, I'm just a skeleton. I'm dead, just like all of them.  
_

 _Rick steps around the bed and the barrel of the gun touches my forehead. The groans and moans of undead fill my ears. I can't move my head out of fear of the gun, but in the corner of my eyes I see the bodies of Glenn, Maggie, and mom coming towards me fast. I can feel their undead fingers creeping on my form and pulling me in to their realm.  
_

 _"We're_ _ **ALL**_ _dead."_

* * *

"Alyssa, wake up! Wake up!"

I screech loudly, shooting up from underneath the blanket. My skin is slick with sweat and my short hair is completely matted to my face. I can feel my heartbeat pounding out of my chest as I take in shallow breaths.

"Sh sh sh, it's okay. I got you." Warm hands envelope my damp form and I push them away. _No more. No more walkers. No more pain_.

"Alyssa, stop! It's me!"

I hyperventilate in my spot, trying to breathe normally. Strong hands grab my arms, holding them tight enough to stop me from writhing in my spot.

"It was just a nightmare." When I look up, it's Carl. His blue eyes search mine with concern. These eyes are no longer glassy and lifeless like they were just minutes ago. I'm sure mine are filled with terror. _But you're dead_. And then his words register in my brain. My heart leaps in my chest and I repeat inwardly, _It's just a dream. It's just a dream._

I take in a heavy breath and make an attempt to stop my shaky hands. I drop my head into his chest as a nervous sob leaves my mouth. _No, no more crying. They're fine. We're fine._

He holds me as tightly as physically possible and rubs circles on my back comfortingly. He doesn't ask me what it was about; he doesn't try to get anything out of me. Instead, Carl whispers the same phrases to me; "It was just a bad dream. You're okay." I wonder how many times it's going to take for me to truly believe it.

Just for the sake of my sanity, I look around the sleeping group. _Thank god, I didn't wake up anyone else._ Sure enough, I pick out Glenn and Maggie a few people away, soundly napping with their arms wrapped around each other. Just above my spot is mom, her body comfortably twisted in the fetal position to get some shut-eye. And to her left, Rick is-

Wait, where is he?

I see his spot made on the floor with a pillow and blanket- the scratchy kind; the one that has the colorful lining to trick you into thinking it's comfortable but really, it's not- and he's not there. I whip my head around the room, my eyes darting through the darkness to find his silhouette. There is none. I point to the empty spot with worry.

"Bathroom or something." Carl shrugs his shoulders. I visibly relax at the statement. "C'mon, lie down a bit."

Together, with his arms still around my uneasy form, we lie back down on the ground. I attempt a couple more calming breaths as Carl holds me flesh against his body, his hand trailing up and down my arm just enough to give me goosebumps. It's something more to focus on than the thought of everyone I cared about being dead.

He and I are quiet for the time-being. He lets me have the silence as a moment to mentally soothe myself, which I do. For the most part. The thoughts are still in my head, but I've distinguished that _it was all just a dream_. But still, I rationalize, those thoughts came from somewhere. And that somewhere is Alexandria. _The people here don't know what it's like outside the walls. One day, they'll screw up. One day, a walker's going to get in and my nightmare will be a reality._

 _I can't let that happen._ _ **Ever**_ _._

"Feel better?" Carl whispers. I nod against his chest. _Much. But not completely._

"Do you want to try to get more sleep, or no?" He asks. I shrug, but still hold him close. I breathe in his scent, which is normally woodsy, like cedar trees. Right now, the stupidly strong body wash or cologne or whatever kind he used is all I can discern. It's something _manly_. Probably some Old Spice. _It's all wrong_. Just another way that Alexandria is messing with us.

I can faintly hear the sounds of a squeaky door opening and closing down the hall. I wiggle a little in Carls' arms to look over and see Rick walking back to his spot. However, he doesn't. In the faint light of the bathroom, I see his shadows walking out and shutting it off. His form walks through the living room but, looking like he had a second thought, he goes to the kitchen. I can't twist my body around fully because I want Carl to go back to sleep, so I focus on the sounds that pierce through the newfound silence. A drawer opening. Something clanking.

I keep my eyes focused on Carls' face, patiently waiting for him to fall back asleep. I know that there is no way I'm getting any shut-eye tonight. I know if I try, I'm just going to see more of my friends as walkers, and I don't want to see that _ever again_. It would break me. However, just because _I'm_ not getting any sleep doesn't mean _he_ can't get any. So I stay relaxed in his arms until his eyes close and his breathing slows.

Once he's completely dozed off, I shrink away from him. I steadily inch away from his form, being aware that if I move too fast he'll wake up again be all worried about me.

With a single hand, I grab the arm on me and pull it up, just enough that I can duck under it and get up. _Thank god_ , I think as I stand up. He's still asleep. Perfect.

I tiptoe past the others and make my way to the kitchen area, where I now fully see Rick in.

The _clank_ I heard earlier was a kitchen knife; he holds it steady in his hand. His eyes look to me as I walk in to the space in front of him and hop onto the shiny black countertop.

Wordlessly, I hold my hand out. It's a silent plead. _Please give me one. A knife._

He nods and grabs another from the drawer beside him and holds it out to me. _Damn, it's like you can read my fricken mind._ I take it graciously out of his hand, pulling it close to me for comfort. The blade is silver with a black handle. While the blade itself is large, it doesn't look like it can cut through much of anything that matters. No walker skulls. No bones. It looks like it's used to cut chicken breasts. But still, beggars can't be choosers. _At least I have something._

I hold out my left index finger, curling the rest of them inward so just the one is pointed proudly. With the very tip of the knife, I poke the finger until it bleeds a little. It stings when I break skin, but I'm happy that it does. _It's just another way to prove my nightmares aren't real. I still bleed.  
_

I scrape the finger along the knee of my jeans, watching the single bead of blood get soaked up by the material. The new red is very visible in the light blue of the denim.

When I look up, I notice Ricks eyes trailing my every move. As I look to him, his blue orbs bore into mine. They're tired.

"I heard you, earlier." He says. I look down apologetically. _Damn it._ However, he doesn't seem angry or annoyed. Instead he sounds understanding. "I get them, too."

I look back up at him, expressing my confusion. He continues, "Nightmares. The bad ones; the ones that you can't get out of your head in the morning. I get them, too."

I look back down to the ground again and the grip on my knife tightens. _I just want to get it out of my head. I don't want to think about him holding a fucking gun to my head. I don't want to see Carl dead. I don't want to see mom as a walker. I just want it out_.

My eyes, downcast to the ground, watch as he takes three large steps to me. A warm pair of arms go around my figure, pulling me close to his strong, muscled form. Without much thought, I bring my arms around him, too. I release a shaky breath onto his chest. _These hands would never hold a gun to me._

 _It was just a dream. It was just a dream. We're all alive. Even if I don't feel okay, I have to be._

"I'm still here for you." Rick whispers to me comfortingly. "We're still here."

He repeats it again a second time and I try to let the words really sink in. I really do.

* * *

 _A/N: Sooo? What do y'all think? Good, bad, ugly? I really want to show throughout these next handful of chapter that Alyssa no longer sees real from nightmares any more. It's PTSD, basically. She's trying to keep sane but she's losing her mind at the same time. Plus, being mute doesn't really help all of that either. These next couple of chapters, she's going to be watching her back, whether or not she actually needs to is up in the air at the moment. I'm excited to write it, so I hope you all are excited to read it._

 _Also, I promise that we're going to meet the Alexandrian teens next chapter. I swear this time :)_


	11. Chapter 11: Teeeeeeens

_A/N: Helloooo!_

 _Argh, I am such shit when it comes to updating. I really am sorry guys, it's just a mess. And by, "it," I mean my life (playfully, of course.) I was really busy over the holidays with my family and college letters and such. I got accepted into my first choice! So, please don't be mad at me. Blame school for my shit writing schedule. I really hope that this (long and extremely fun,) chapter makes up for it. Like I said, I've been so excited to write Carl/Alyssa interactions with the Alexandria teens, and I hope this doesn't disappoint you all._

* * *

Just as I thought, I never actually go back to sleep. Rick and I both make it back to our little cot areas, but the actual motion of falling back asleep never happens. I just lay there all night, staring at the ceiling, occasionally playing with the new bracelet on my wrist, and wishing for the sun to come back up.

When it does, the whole group begins to wake up and we, _yet again_ , have a feast for breakfast. Maggie and Glenn make a _huge_ bowl of scrambled eggs, a fuckton of toast, and there's _bacon_. My mouth waters at the meal and I almost dig in like a pig. Almost. My morally sane conscious tells me that I can't eat it all. One day we'll need to ration the food again. One day a forkful of eggs can mean the world. So I take a couple forks of the eggs, half a piece of toast, and a bite of the bacon. _Delicious crunchy bacon_.

Mom pokes at my shoulder. I twist to see her behind me. "Are you gonna eat more?"

I shake my head no. She frowns. "Please eat some more, Liz. We have all this food. We can't let it go to waste."

 _That's why I'm not eating any more. We need to make it last._

I take another bite of my bacon, hoping that it'll be enough for her. She raises an eyebrow in a, " _Really_?" expression. The sass radiates off her and I don't bother to fight. Another bite. She nods encouragingly.

Almost feeling sick to my stomach, I finish the strip of bacon. She pats my shoulder happily and gives me a half hug from behind. "Thank you."

 _Ugh, too much food._

I throw my plate into the fridge for later consumption and the rest of us clean up the table. We have almost no leftovers, save for my plate, and at around ten o'clock (or so the clock on the living room wall says,) we hear a knock from the door. My hand twitches at my side for my knife, but no, I'm hopelessly weapon-less. _I hate this. I want my knife back._

Glenn goes to the door and opens it, revealing a chipper Deanna wearing very business-like clothes. Tan pants, a light blue blouse that compliments her eyes, and a simple locket and a few bracelets to pull the look together.

"Good morning!" She greets, _way_ too perky for my taste. "How was everyone's first night in our community?"

 _Oh, you really want to know? Shitty. Horrible. Couldn't sleep a wink for the fear I would see my loved ones dead. How was yours?  
_

The response she actually got from the lot of us was murmurs of, "Fine, I guess." That's pretty much the response she was expecting, it seems.

"Glad to hear it." She gives an encouraging nod to us. "Well, I was thinking, for your first official day at Alexandria, you should all explore us. I know I showed most of you the," she makes air quotations, "'important parts,' but I'm sure you would all feel better if you knew the landscape. So, explore! I don't joke when I say we're about transparency. We have nothing to hide, and I want you all to see it. I think tomorrow is when I'll show each of you what and where your jobs are. Sound good?"

Yet again, the group murmurs a, "Yeah, sure," or a, "Sounds good," back to her. The consensus isn't ecstatic, but it's at least agreeable to her terms.

"Okay," she grins to us, "I'll let you all roam around. Feel free to talk to any of us. We don't bite, I promise."

With a swift wave of her hand she exits the house and closes the door behind her. We all stand in our spots awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

"So," Glenn clears his throat, "I guess we're exploring?"

* * *

Carl and I get to put Judith in a stroller for our little expedition around town. Let me be the first to say that I experienced just a tiny bit of rage at trying to strap her in. The stupid buckles didn't line up right and one side was too loose and the other was too tight and the button was stuck and why was this so difficult and- _arghhhh_. It was annoying. That's all.

The group disperses on the steps of the white porch, all of us heading into different directions. Not that it's hard. This place _is_ very big. Even with the fifteen of us it's still quite a bit of land to cover. I'm still debating mentally on whether that's a good thing or not.

Daryl still sits in the shade of the porch, on his own and putting on his signature Dirty Redneck scowl. It's like he couldn't be bothered to even fake the pleasantries when Deanna comes by. I don't think he ever is.

While I start walking with Carl, my eyes wander over to the houses and the space between them. My immediate thought is of the kid I saw yesterday, running behind them like he was trapped here. _I wonder what's behind them, anyways_.

As Carl continues to go straight on the concrete with his baby sisters stroller, I take a sidestep to the green and the houses.

"Going somewhere?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. I point to the grass that travels to the back of the second Team Family home.

"Gotcha." He says. He doesn't question it. He doesn't ask me to stay with him. He just presses a chaste kiss to my lips and tells me, "Have fun. I'll catch up with you later, Angel."

I take a couple steps backward and flash him a smile of gratitude. My eyes trail behind him, watching as he takes a couple lazy steps before I twist fully to the houses and walk through the space.

It's really not too different from the front. It's just the backs of the houses, really. The huge and massively tall wall is in front of me, leaving a good couple of meters between the houses to it. If there's anything to note in differences, it's that there isn't any road back here. Only grass and a couple unkempt bushes. To my right are some tall, dark, and thick-set trees, maybe a foot from the wall. If I wanted to I could probably climb up them. I make a mental note: _Climb them. Eventually_. To the left of where I look, almost resting against the corner of the walls, I see an abysmal attempt at a garden. There's tiny shoots sprouting in the corner, but everything else seems bare and I'm not sure it's supposed to be.

I start walking to the right, to where the trees are. Just a light stroll. My eyes hover over the backs of the cookie-cutter houses, finding all the windows and back doors and trying to figure out whether or not people actually use them. According to the scarce footprints in the dirt these exits are hardly used. _More fun for me. The less people, the better_.

My easy stroll turns into a light jog. It feels better to run a little than to leisurely trek around.

But then the light jog turns into a full-out sprint. I don't even know the layout of this place. It doesn't matter. Back here, it's almost like in the woods. Sure, there are the houses and the wall, but there's uneven ground and trees and no one is even _here_. No manmade street. No people lounging about. It's perfect for a run.

The sprint is heavy, but just what I needed. I relish in the sweat that breaks on my forehead. The burning in my calves and the pounding heart in my chest is so satisfying. _This is how I'm supposed to feel. This is how life should be._

In a few minutes I hit the end of the wall, panting and I bring my hands to my knees. My head bows down and tries to gulp in enough air to my lungs. I rest for that moment, just a little bit, and twist back to continue my run.

Going back takes a bit longer than I intended. You see, when I run, it leaves my mind blank. I don't think much (unless I'm running from a walker,) because my feet just take me wherever. I just _run_. All the greenery becomes a blur and I never care. So when I notice that someone is running towards my direction, my brain turns back on but not fast enough to avoid collision with him.

We knock into each other pretty hard, our foreheads bumping painfully and my head spins momentarily. We both groan in pain as we hit the ground. My elbow digs into the dirt and the impact resonates through my bones. _Ugh. So much for an uneventful jog._

"Shit!" He groans out, his hand going to rub his forehead. I wince as I ghost my fingertips over my impact site. There's definitely going to be a bump later.

The person I run into is none other than Sam, the kid that Aaron pointed out to me yesterday. His short (yet shaggy,) brown hair is messy and unkempt, like he didn't brush it this morning. His eyes are a dark blue, much darker than Carls'. His are like a stormy sea, ready to rip boats to shreds. They're harsh and extremely striking. _Pretty_.

"Watch where you're going!" The irritation is easy to hear. _Wait, where_ _ **I'm**_ _going? I was here first, asshole!_

But he looks to me as he stands, and confusion is the second emotion present. "Who the fuck are you?"

 _Someone you just ran into. That's all you need to know. That's all you're getting outta me._

"Ohhh." He says. "You're one of the new guys." Even with that in mind, he's still visibly pissed. _Jesus, kid, it was an accident. You're acting like I sacrificed your first born son._

"What? You're not gonna say anything? No, 'I'm sorry?' No, 'It was your fault!' Nothing?"

 _Nothing. Leave me alone, please._

"Wooow," he clicks his tongue, "Reeaaal chatterbox."

 _Wow_ , my thoughts mimic his voice, _you really are an asshole_.

Even though it looks like he'd rather not, he holds a hand out to me. "I'm Sam."

I give a look of apprehension to the outstretched hand and instead stand up by myself. Sam seems mildly shocked and a bit irritated. I don't care.

I begin walking in the direction I was before, towards the family houses, hoping that Sam would take the hint and leave me alone. _God forbid I step on a precious toe of his. He would probably cut mine off as payment._

However, he doesn't. With a quick jog he gets beside me and walks in companionship. "What's your name?"

 _Haha, nope. Not answering_. I walk just a bit faster in hopes that he would leave me be.

But of course not. He picks up his pace to get beside me and waits a beat before saying, "Are you not gonna tell me?"

 _No. Get the hint. Jesus._

"Ouch." The sarcasm is strong. A hand clutches over his heart for emphasis momentarily before it drops again to his side. "So, what do I call you? ST?"

 _ST?_

I give him a look of confusion. "Stands for silent treatment."

 _Sure, go ahead. Why not._

And I shrug to the new nickname. "Okay, ST it is."

We keep walking and soon enough, we're at the house. I twist to the left and out shines the front of the house. Daryl sits on the porch, his hunter senses kicking in every so often to swing his head around and look for others. He has his eyes trained to the two of us the second we slip in between the two mansion-like buildings before he goes back to... whatever he's doing with his arrows. He's probably repairing them, but my line of vision doesn't see any of it.

"Ah, this where Deanna put you guys?" Sam looks over to the large house right beside the wall as we keep walking, the one with Daryl lounging. "It's been open for a while. And, I'm assuming you know the guy over there. I mean, he's been staring at you this whole time. It would be creepy if you didn't."

 _Yes, Peanut Gallery. I know Daryl Dixon._

"I hope she would. He's been part of our group for a while." A new voice rings. I swing around, doing a 180, to find the start of the street and Carl standing there. His eyes gleam over to Sam, cautious. My eyes go past him to a few yards away, where Rick is standing with Judith and her stroller, Jessie by his side.

When my eyes roam back over to Carl I notice the harsh gleam in his blue orbs, pointedly affixed on Sam's face. _You okay, cowboy? You seem kind of angry._

"Lemme guess: you're a new guy too?" The heir of sarcasm is ever-present in the Alexandrians' tone. It's like he's _trying_ to get a rise out of someone, even on the most mundane of things. One of these days he's gonna get punched in the face and I'm going to laugh.

"Yeah, new guy." Carl says. His stance is still and rigid, his face for the most part stoic. Or, at least, he tried to be. The eyes are still glaring and his jaw tightens. He's defensive. _Why are you mad? I'm confused._

"At least you talk." Sam gives a smirk in my direction and I roll my eyes. _Harsh. Asshole_. "You gotta name?"

"Carl." He says. I look down to his hands. One clenches and unclenches like a fist by his side.

"Sam."

The ordeal itself is quite awkward and in the silence I hurriedly head over to Carls' side. _Yay. Someone normal._

Sam's eyes gleam lightly over the both of us. "Looks like you two have someplace to be. Don't let me stop ya." He brings two fingers to his forehead and swings them out slyly, like a playful salute. As he walks past the two of us, he gives a smirk. "Bye, Carl. Bye, ST."

 _Argh, that's gonna stick, isn't it?_

Our combined sets of eyes trail behind him as he heads behind the houses once more, turning to the right. His blue orbs twist around to look back at us one last time, and it's almost like there's laughter in them. They hold such a childish, excited gleam. They could almost be considered handsome.

"ST?" Carl asks me, his eyes trained on Sam's retreating form and leaning in to my side. They click to my face real quick and I shrug my shoulders with a, " _don't even ask_ ," roll of my eyes.

With a quick flip of his hair, Sam's behind the second house and the hush that fell over the group is broken by the sounds of a quick jog.

"Well," Rick walks over to us with Judith in his arms, "That was awkward."

 _You took the words right out of my mouth, sheriff._

"Yup." Carl nods, his angry demeanor switching back to pleasantly happy. The hand completely unclenches and his tall, straight stature drops into a comfortable slouch.

He turns to me. "Ron wanted us to head over today. Apparently he really wants to meet us."

 _Ron? Who the fuck is that?_

I guess my confusion shone through. Carl explains, "He's one of the teenagers here." His eyes momentarily glaze over to the left, where Sam had left us. "Looks like we're not alone."

I smile to him. _Well, it's true. We_ _ **have**_ _been the only two teens so far in the group. It'll be cool to hang out with people our age for once!_

"Wanna head over now?" Carl asks me. I feel everyone staring at me, waiting for an answer. Carl, Rick, Jessie, even Judith. So, I would feel bad if I said no. _Stupid peer pressure._

I shrug to the question, meaning: _Eh, why not?_ Besides, I can feel a little bubble of excitement in my chest. _What if there's another girl I could hang out with? I miss having girlfriends. I miss having_ _ **friends**_ _in general._ For once, I'm actually kind of excited for this new prospect of Alexandria.

* * *

Jessie opens the door for us, giving us access to her house. It's right by the edge of the lake in the middle of the Safe Zone. There's a glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling, which my eyes immediately go to. When the sunlight hits it perfectly, the crystals shine brightly.

Rick makes sure that the two of us are okay with being here before he leaves. Carl tells him that we'll be okay, and that we know where the house is when we want to leave. Nervousness begins to take over me and I start to feel less than excited like I was earlier.

The second the door closes behind Rick, and Jessie calls up the stairs, "Ron! The new kids are here!"

The sound of someone bounding down the stairs and a rushed, "Coming!" fills my ears and I can't help but feel a nervous flop in my stomach. Jessie goes to her kitchen, no doubt probably grabbing us games or something else extremely Suburban. My hand grabs Carl's, holding him loose but tight enough to tether me down. If he wasn't there I probably would have bolted by now.

The new guy, Ron, is taller than me by at least three inches, and probably by two over Carl. I instantly feel like an ant compared to the two of them. I can see poofy dirty blonde hair poking around the sides of a grey beanie and twinkling brown orbs going from Carl to me. Above a green t-shirt is a pale leather jacket.

"Hey, New Guys." He grins to us with a relaxed wave. His mom comes back in and, low and behold, a small bowl of green grapes is in a hand.

"Ron! What did I say about wearing hats inside the house?" Jessie complains, yanking the beanie off and his hair gets pulled up with it. The dirty blonde strands stick out in all directions and with a groan of annoyance he begins to pat down the mop on his head.

Once he feels confident about his fixed hairstyle, he tells us, "I'm Ron, but you obviously knew that. What're your names?"

 _Oh good lord, this is like middle school all over again. Next thing you know he'll ask us to sit criss-cross applesauce in a circle and ask us our favorite color._

"I'm Carl, and this is Alyssa." Carl answers for the both of us, a laid-back smile on his face. Jessie takes this moment to show us her motherly love and she shoves the bowl haphazardly into Ron's hands.

"That's for all of you upstairs, okay?" She tells him. He nods and adjusts his grip on it.

"Got it." He nods, a cheeky grin on his face. His eyes land on the two of us, awkwardly standing and tense while he and Jessie have their shoulders relaxed and I can see they have zero weapons on them. They need to be stupid to not even have a simple knife on them.

"Wanna head upstairs? I'll give you guys a tour of the house and you can meet the others." I look up to Carl, pretty much silently begging him to answer for us. I don't need to, however. He knows me well enough.

His voice is quiet and awkward as he answers. "Uh, sure... I guess."

Ron points behind himself with a thumb, gesturing to the staircase. "Follow me." He steps backwards before doing a 180 and walking up the steps. "C'mon, don't be shy! We're not scary."

Carl gives me a look of unease. _This wasn't what we expected_. In all honesty, I had thought of him to be more like Sam. Cocky, arrogant, a bit of an asshole. But no, not even a little sense of paranoia. No weapons, no muscle build from killing walkers, no nothing. He must've been holed up in here since the start. He just doesn't know what it's like to be on the other side of the fence. Ron acts just like a teenager before the apocalypse; nothing of after. _That's not good_.

I feel the slight tug on my hand that brings me out of my thoughts and I find myself slowly bounding up the carpeted steps, just behind Carl.

"We're almost always here after school," Ron starts as we make it to the hall. I notice his slight pants behind his breath and I scrunch m nose in confusion. Now, I'm not much of an exercise geek, but it's pretty essential to last even a day outside. If he couldn't get up the steps without breathing heavily, he couldn't run to save his life. "So you can come by any time."

"You go to school?" Carl exclaims. I remember Deanna saying that during my little interview and I roll my eyes at the thought. _Yes, let's teach the children of our future the power of triangles instead of how to build a fire._

"It's in a garage." Ron answers sheepishly, a ghost of a chuckle in his tone. "Little kids go in the morning and then it's us in the afternoon. Probably you guys too, right?"

 _Ha. No chance in hell. There's no way I'm going to spend even an hour reading Hamlet when I could be stabbing some dead guy in the face (and, y'know, save your weak asses.) I have my priorities straight, thanks.  
_

Carl exchanges my look of utter annoyance with a small, "Probably." The way his voice hangs low and uncertain leads me to believe that he's just saying it for the sake of keeping Ron neutral with us. He doesn't want that as much as I do.

We make our way to a room definitely designed for a teenager, and a messy one at that. I immediately notice the dirty clothes strewn on the floor, with only a small patch of empty carpet leading to a twin bed, a computer desk, and a rocking chair beside a tiny bookcase. The bed is in the middle, a cartoon robot pattern on the comforter. On the bed is another person, a _girl_ , drawing or writing inside a notebook. On the walls are a dozen posters everywhere, many on games or old tv shows. There's even some old sports posters up, too. Not that I know who any of them are. I only watched baseball once with my birth mom, and that was only because nothing good was on.

There's a poster for Call of Duty proudly tacked just above an old computer on the desk facing a window, and a couple Spongebob Squarepants ones hiding behind the large dinosaur of a monitor. I have no idea whether the computer works or not, but I wouldn't bet any money on it living. Another table right in front of the bed has a large tv with a DVD player and some old game console connected.

In the wheeling chair of the computer desk sits another teenager, this time a guy. His smile is wide with a welcoming air about it. I bristle at his overly happy demeanor.

The sad looking bookshelf on the other end of the room holds a few decent sized novels. Most of them, which haphazardly take up the middle and bottom shelf of the three-tiered wonder, are children's books. The small, brightly colored stories are slanted and stacked up on top of each other instead of being side by side, and I want to fix them from their disorderly prison. The thicker, less shiny books take up the top shelf, and while they are extremely slanted to the side, at least they aren't making tiny stacks on their level.

"Guys, this is Carl and Alyssa." Ron announces as we stand behind him, just inside the doorframe. "Carl and Alyssa, this is Mikey and Enid." He goes to the computer desk and puts the bowl of grapes down beside some notebooks and crumpled up pieces of paper. Mikey pops a few in mouth with ease.

My eyes quickly roam over the two and I take a liking to Enid more than Mikey. With his grey sweater, pressed tan slacks, and weird brown shoes, he looks like a... _normal_ teenager. Before the apocalypse. That's the air that Ron gives, too. That's why I don't like them. They don't seem versed in survival. Mikey's clothes aren't easy to run in. Those shoes would wear to the soles with about a week's worth of running, I presume. He's not even slightly dressed for combat. Plus, he's too nice. Too welcoming. He'd probably trust the wrong people and get himself killed outside the fence.

However, Enid's clothes and atmosphere are perfect. She wears boots and jeans, and some old green shirt, easy to move around in and the boots wouldn't wear easily. I notice the small line of hair ties on the wrist of her writing hand; in case her long brown locks got in her face and she needed to put it up. _Smart_. While she adds more lines to her paper, which rests on her bent knees, she's unconcerned with us. The vibe she sends us is completely neutral. She doesn't care.

 _I like it._

"Hey!" Mikey greets us, standing from the desk chair and waving to us.

"Hi." Enid says blandly. Her eyes don't even look to us; they remain focused on her paper. _She's definitely from outside the wall. She knows._

"Enid's from... Outside, too." Ron tells us. _Knew it!_ He moves to her and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her eyes flick to the gesture and she bristles slightly at the touch, but she doesn't shrink away. She just goes back to her drawing. "She came about eight months ago."

Carl and I give respectful nods to her. _I approve. I like her._

"Oh! Um..." Carl drops my hand and digs through his pockets, taking out the comic we read at nighttime yesterday. "Is this- any of yours?" He holds it out awkwardly to Mikey, then to Ron.

"Oh, sorry." Ron gives a hearty laugh. "We didn't know you guys got that house."

"We mostly just hang up there and listen to music." Mikey adds. "That's Enid's."

Her hand reaches out and takes the comic from Carl with force, a bit too much for my liking. My gaze narrows at her. _Just because I like you doesn't mean you can snap at us over a comic book._

Ron looks to the both of us. "Want to play some video games?" He gestures towards the tiny teetering stack of games by the edge of the computer desk. The logo on the side of each game proudly hails, "XBox," in green and gray.

"Orrr, Mikey's house has a pool table, but his dad's pretty strict about it."

Mikey makes a small, playful scoff at the words. "It's okay, he's at work."

The guys look to the both of us, and Carl is just as speechless as I am. My heart does multiple flip flops in my best. _How can they be so carefree? "Wanna play video games?" "Wanna play pool?" "My dad's at work right now, so we don't need to worry about him getting mad at us!"_

 _How?_ _ **How?**_

"Umm..." Carls voice falters. His eyes search the floor instead of their faces, hoping to come up with anything to say. But, for once, he doesn't. I notice the small shake of his head, completely at a loss for words.

"Sorry." Ron seems genuinely concerned for us. The sheepish tone in his makes me feel as if he _is_ sorry for slapping us in the face with such, "normalcy." "I guess we come on kind of strong."

 _You don't say?_

"We can just hang out." He adds hastily, an attempt to salvage this little group outing. Through the corner of my eyes I see Enid's head popping up to look at us newcomers.

"You don't even have to talk if you don't wanna." Mikey adds. Though I wasn't going to anyway, it does make me feel better. I'm judged for being mute in the group every single day. Here, the fact that Mikey even said, it takes a bit of weight off my shoulders.

"Yeah, it took Enid _three weeks_ to say something." My eyes look to her and I give a smile. _Looks like I'll be in the same boat as you. If I ever talk again. I highly doubt it, though._

Carl looks to me with an appreciative gleam in his eyes. "She's mute." He tells them. While I wouldn't normally like being showcased to a bunch of teens whom I just met, Ron and Mikey give understanding nods to me.

My hand finds his again and I grasp it tightly, holding it in a death grip. Carl's eyes find mine, silently asking me if I'm okay. I don't know how to answer that. So instead I give him a small nod; a gesture of, "Wanna give it a try?"

Do I like this? This normalcy of playing video games and getting yelled at for playing pool? No, absolutely not. However, the rational side of my brain tells me to just play along. Who knows? Maybe we could learn a thing or two of our little angel community from these unprepared apocalypse-goers.

With one last glance to me, he turns back to Ron. "Let's... Let's play some video games." _So it seems we both came to the same conclusion. Try._

"Cool, yeah." Ron grins. He goes to the stack and tosses the CDs onto the bed beside Enid's feet.

"Take your pick. New guy gets first choice." Ron adds.

Carl doesn't care, really. He goes up to the jumbled mess and pulls out Gears of War from the bottom.

"Wise choice." Ron takes the disc and sets it up for the three guys to play.

"Do you wanna play, too? We only have three controllers but I could sit a few rounds out." Ron asks me.

I quickly shake my head. _No thank you. I don't want to play a shooter game. I literally shoot people in the face sometimes, why would I want to virtually do that?_

"She likes books." Carl answers aloud for me. "Anything, really. Reading's kind of her thing."

"Oh, I have some." Ron pulls away from the screen to grab one for me, and I'm actually kind of touched. _Thank you_ , I say mentally.

"While this may not be the widest selection of young adult novels, I do have some of the classics in here. Harry Potter sound okay to you?"

Ron glances over his shoulder to me and I nod eagerly. I was always a huge fan of Harry Potter.

"Then it looks like we have a winner." He pulls a larger book from the stack and holds it proudly out to me. The Order of the Phoenix is written in elegant cursive across the top, and I inwardly squeal. It's my favorite out of the series. _Okay, he might not be so bad. At least he has good taste in literature._

I take the novel graciously from his outstretched hands and grin to him. _Thank you, Ron!_

I notice that there's only one chair in the room, the desk chair. It's already being occupied by Mikey, and the thought crosses my mind; where are we all going to sit?

Carl is handed a controller for the game and Ron takes a seat by the edge of the bed, directly in front of the screen as the game loads up. Carl follows, albeit a bit awkward (it looks like he doesn't know where to go, either,) and sits beside the Alexandrian.

Through the corner of my eye, I notice a hand grab the magazine that's beside Enid. She moves it to the back on the notebook in her hands, her expression emotionless with the motions. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to say something.

But she doesn't. Not that she really needs to. I get the hint and tentatively lean on the edge before scooting myself in fully. That's how she communicates, like me. She doesn't outwardly say anything; her actions tell all. At least, they do if you know where to look.

I flip open to a random page and begin reading as the sound of scratchy explosions from the game fills my ears. The sound of a shot gun goes off, and the excited, "Yeah!" from Ron tells me the two are doing something right by point-standards. Enid's pencil flies across the page smoothly and I resist the urge to look over at her drawing. _I wonder what it is._

"Pull it together, sport." She whispers, loud enough for only me to here. First I feel another flash of hot anger. How _dare_ she think I can just, "pull it together," in a quick moment! It's not like I can just, "get better," from a command. I can't just turn this on and off. That's not how I'll get better. Muteness doesn't work like that.

But as I glare at her features, I notice she seems relaxed. Her neutral expression shows that outwardly, she doesn't give a rats ass. Her hand is still darting around the paper making who knows what design, shoulders still against the pillow with no sign of tensing. When her eyes look up to meet mine, in just that single second I see a twinkle of understanding. She _knows_ what it feels like. She knows how it ruins a persons mental status. The comment wasn't made offhandedly, it was a _warning. "Pull yourself together or you'll never make it in here."_

I bob my head a smidge to her, the tiniest of nods I could produce. She doesn't bother with a verbal response or even a nod back. Her focus is now completely on her artwork. I can tell she understands though. It's how people from the outside communicate. Silently. Little talking and more charades than anything.

Would I, "pull myself together," any time soon? I don't think so. Not after everything we've been through as a group. Especially now that we're in a completely different environment, set with over fifty new people. Most of them have never even stepped foot outside the fence. They're idiots. If I did start talking within the next few days, I would probably bite my tongue off to keep myself from yelling at them on their choice of running shoes.

* * *

After about an hour of the boys blowing up bad guys and Enid seemingly finishing her drawing, Carl points out that our group would probably want us back at the house for lunch. I doubt I'd actually eat whatever they cooked, but I'm extremely anxious to get back to our people. There's only so much that a person could handle being around teenagers like Ron and Mikey, and I've been walking on the edge of my patience.

However, I never voiced these opinions out loud. Carl does the talking. With a kind smile and a soft, "It was nice hanging out with you guys," they let us off the hook and we bound down the stairs and out the door without a second thought. It's a slow walk back, and we take in the sights of the large, mossy pond as we pass.

When we get to the house, we give a quick greeting and a wave to Abraham and Rosita, who were back from their expedition and were lounging on the couch with some beers. Carol is in the kitchen, making the pile of dishes in the sink grow a little higher as she makes something that smells of pork.

Carl and I go up the stairs and into the room with the twin bed; the one from my nightmare. I involuntarily shiver at it but don't comment as he and I lie down on it. It's small and barely fits the two of us, but our legs are twisted together and he makes sure I don't fall off my edge with an arm slung around my back, pulling me close to him. My arm goes around his middle lazily and my head rests comfortably against his chest, my ear above his heart, hearing the soothing sounds of his heart beating in a quick tempo.

"So," he says, "what did you think?"

I twist my head up to meet his eyes with a furrow in my brow, as if I were questioning if he really is trying to get me to talk.

"Just a question." He shrugs, and I lay my head back down on him. "I think they're nice. I guess. They aren't what I was expecting."

Suddenly I think of an idea. I pull myself off of him and get myself in a seating position, swinging my leg beneath my butt comfortably. Carl readjusts himself so he can give me enough room by the edge of the bed. I pull his hand in both of mine.

His eyes look to my face quizzically, but I hold up one finger to silence any question he was about to ask.

One of my hands cradle his sweetly, keeping his hand steady. The other keeps the index finger out, bringing it down to the flesh of his palm, writing out a single word.

This is how I'll communicate with him. The shrugging, the shaking my head, it's all useful in some ways to convey my feelings, but this will help. I wouldn't talk. No way. At least, not yet. I'm definitely not comfortable here. So this could be a stepping stone.

Maybe this will help me get there.

"W... E... A... K..." Carl sounds out as I trace the letters down. "Weak." He says affirmatively. He looks up to my face and I nod. _Weak. They're weak._

The growing grin on Carls' face brings one to my own. He's excited that I'm giving him _something_ to go on. Something that he can interpret from me. He knows that this is a bridge for me, helping me. I've only written out one word to him and already I have a rush of happiness swoop in my stomach. It's already fixing a piece of me.

"I think so too." He agrees, the smile breaking and the mood becoming more somber. "I like them, but they're weak. I don't want any of us to become weak. We can't afford it."

I nod. While it could be a quaint safe zone, there's much to be desired. If anything were to happen here, a very big chunk of this population would die. I write out, "I KNOW," on the outstretched palm. Like he said, we can't afford to become weak like the rest of Alexandria. It just can't happen. That would be signing a death certificate straight away.

I set his hand in his lap before setting myself comfortably at his side again. As if his arm were on automatic, he immediately wraps an arm around my shoulders and we lean back together diagonally on the covers. Our legs hang off the edge, swinging lightly. My head takes back its earlier spot on his chest and I listen to the steady rhythm of his heart with my eyes closed.

"Did you ever get any sleep last night?" He asks, and when I open my eyes back up I see a hand a couple inches from my chest, fingers spread out so I can write on the palm again.

"NOT ENOUGH," I write in blocks. I sigh happily as I snuggle closer into the crook of his neck and drop his hand. They go to his neck and I pray he drops the subject.

"Don't bullshit me. I can tell when you're lying." He says softly, pulling my hands away from his neck and pulling up in his spot. He inches closer to the middle.

 _Fine. Brat._

I take his hand and loosely scribble, "NOT AT ALL." My eyes go from looking at my message to his face from under the hair that falls into my eyes.

"Thought so." Carl sighs. Finally, he pulls me back to him and we fall back on the length of the mattress, and I get the long-awaited cuddle I'd been hoping for. My head rests on his chest once more as his arms pull around me, like we had earlier at the edge of the bed.

"You should take a nap." He says to me. I shake my head against him. _Nope. I don't want to see you dead again. That was horrible._

"Not sleeping makes you weak, and weak makes you dead." He says it firmly, and there is no fighting him on the matter. "We don't want to be weak."

I bring reason to my thoughts. I can't argue; it's true. But that doesn't mean I need to like it. So I give a begrudging nod and turn to my side, facing away from him. His arm pulls at my waist to bring closer to him, holding me flush against the front of his body. His hand is splayed out on the bottom of my stomach, warmth spreading from his stretched out fingers under the pulled fabric. They're just inches away from the top of my jeans and I'm hyper aware of how close they are. I wonder if he notices. I tuck one hand under my head while the other rests close to my face.

"Sleep." He whispers soothingly to me, his lips just mere centimeters from my neck. I can feel his hot breath tickle the skin and I shiver unconsciously. His hand shifts around my stomach, the pinky lightly touching the band of my pants. Does he even notice what he's doing to me? _You are not helping me, "sleep," Carl._

Experimentally, I shift in my spot, my back arching as I stretch out. The hiss I hear from him makes me grin. I roll my hips, ever-so-lightly, against the front of his jeans and the grip from his hand on my stomach gives me a boost of confidence. _Gotcha_.

"You're supposed to be sleeping." Carl reminds me. I roll my hips again in response and I note his pushing back to me, just a little bit. I let out a soft sigh from the friction against my butt, waiting for his response. And yet again, he pushes against me without thought. _Please, this is much more fun_. I lean my head backwards to look at him over my shoulder, a dark glare in his eyes. I'm sure mine have a more teasing glint, considering I started this, but they share the same desire. I push back against him once more and his eyes close, and the faint groan in response doesn't escape my ears. It sounds like heaven.

"Stop." He says, his voice an octave lower than normal. His eyes open again and he whispers to me. "Sleep. You need it."

 _Oh, party pooper._

But I give a half-assed nod and stop my playful assault on him. I twist my head back on my side and lace my fingers through his, which are still splayed out on my form. _Don't think this is over._

While I don't want to sleep, I feel a rush of admiration for him. Even with me pushing insistently against him, he still held the thought of me needing sleep more important. _How sweet_.

My little spike of adrenaline from our little foreplay slowly leaves my system, and my eyes slowly shut on their own accord. Even with Carl holding me close, I have to think, _please don't be another nightmare._

* * *

 _A/N: Hmmmm? Like, don't like? Good, bad, ugly?_


	12. Chapter 12: Breaking Point

_A/N: Good god, it's been over two months. I have a good excuse this time! I promise._

 _I worked on this chapter ALL last week. I was getting it all out and you know what happened? My phone malfunctioned and I lost all my work. All. Of. It. I was so pissed that I just had to walk away from it for a little bit. But now I have this beauty out and it's finally here and I hope you all like it. I've been planning this scene since watching season 5, so I hope it came out well. It's a little feels-y. And on the short side of how my chapters normally are, but I hope I portrayed what I wanted to well._

 _BY THE WAY: I noticed today that a chunk of the dialogue in the last chapter between Carl and Alyssa at the end was completely messed up and didn't make sense. I don't know how that managed to get passed me but it did. I. Am. So. SORRY! It's fixed now, so you may want to reread the end of the chapter for anything to make sense. Sorry!_

* * *

We've been at our, "new home," for a little over a week now.

It seems our group has fallen into a routine; get up, have breakfast, and go to whatever job Deanna has gifted them. For those who haven't, they stay at home, twiddling their thumbs. For Carl and I, we go to the teen classes that some nameless Alexandrian gives us with the rest of the kids. We learn about trigonometry instead of learning to build a fire, or any other life-saving skills. I'm angry about going to them, but Carol tells us all, "We gotta keep up appearances." So I go and write numbers down, praying that one day we'll learn something useful.

Carols, "new appearance," has been the sweet, innocent housewife; doesn't know how to fire a gun, but can make a mean chicken pot pie. It's almost scary, how easy it is for her to put on the mask. That way, she tells us, she can keep an eye on our neighbors and the general populous of the Safe Zone. What she reports back to us is what we don't want to hear.

When we entered Alexandria, I expected armed people, snipers on watch, groups that go out to kill walkers every now and then. What I didn't expect was a population of over 70 people, with 50 who don't know how to fire a gun. Carol tells us that only two people she's met actually have had training with a gun. And this honestly scares me. If a herd of walkers barge through the gate, our group would have to step up. And that's _if_ we can get our hands on a couple weapons. Without us, Alexandria Safe Zone would crumble.

Mom's still concerned about me adjusting to our new home. She thinks that I'm not eating enough during the group meals. Most people fork down the entire plate in what seems to be minutes. I can barely keep down having two bites of it.

I also can't sleep a whole night. Even with Carl soothing me, even with the whole group sleeping in the same room, I'm plagued by the same nightmares, over and over again. Walkers breaking through the gates, killing everyone, my friends and family dying before my eyes. Last night showcased mom bleeding out on the lawn, and me protecting her body from walkers through a waterfall of tears.

Currently I'm at the kitchen sink, the sun pouring through the breaks of the blinds and onto my shrunken form. My hands pull out different assorted dishes and silverware from sudsy waters, hastily running a sponge on them before running them under the faucet and setting them on a dying rack. The remnants of this mornings breakfast. Carol made some scrambled eggs with toast.

With a groan, I let a mug sink back into the water with a _PLOP_. I run my hands half-heartedly on a damp kitchen towel and bring my palms to press deeply to my eye sockets. Physically I'm washing dishes, mentally I'm still protecting moms dead body from an undead swarm. My elbows rest on the wet edge of the sink, barely staying in place due to the mess of water. I plead mentally _. I just want it out of my head for one goddamn second. Please._ _ **Please**_ _._

The front door opens loudly, and my pleading shuts off. My hands go from my face to the soapy water, grabbing some stupid, barely sharp knife that was used to cut bread. I turn to the open doorway of the kitchen, holding the blade out while some of its leftover bubbles slip onto my skin.

Carol stands in the frame, holding a Tupperware container half-filled with some Alfredo pasta bake. Her eyes go from the knife to my guarded face and she raises a brow.

I shake my head and turn back to the sink, cleaning it and setting it to dry. _Stupid paranoia._

"Looks like the Clarke's don't enjoy Alfredo." Carol comments, opening the door to the fridge and setting it on a shelf. "Damn shame. They missed out on my best."

I nod heartily; Carol may not actually be a housewife, but her cooking is heaven.

"You gonna talk any time soon?" She asks me, and I shiver in my spot at her cold tone. I cock my head to look over my shoulder. _Where'd you get that idea from?_

"You should." She continues, the fridge door swinging shut behind her. "You can't just be a mute in the apocalypse. We _need_ you to talk."

I fully turn around, looking at her as she moves closer to me. Her blue eyes are cold and harsh as she says, "What if we're on a run, and there's a walker behind one of us? Are you just going to point at it and hope we get the message? Or are you gonna grow a pair and warn us? Are we gonna die because of you?"

My back presses against the wet edge of the sink, my hands holding to it like a lifeline. _Please, stop._

"What's my name?" She demands. I look at her in bewilderment. "Say my name. Out loud."

 _Please don't make me._

In a haste, I grab her hand and begin to write her name down.

C-A-R-

"No." She yanks her hand away, saying harshly. "I need you to say it. Out loud. Prove to me you're not useless."

 _I'm not useless_ , I think bitterly. But I don't say anything.

"Say it."

 _No._

After a brief silence, her steel gaze bores into mine. "I thought so." Her answer about me seems final. _I'm not useless._

She briskly turns from me, heading to the front door. My eyes, blinking back tears, keep to her disappearing form.

"Y'know," I hear Carol say from the door, "there was a time you used to badass. I could count on you for anything. I want that Alyssa back."

 _I do, too._

Through the blood pounding in my ears, I faintly hear the door open and close, no more footsteps echoing through the house. I gasp loudly, blinking back tears that threaten to escape. _I'm not useless_. I repeat the phrase like a mantra in my head. _I'm not useless._

 _Or am I?_

 _No!_ I will the thoughts away, shaking my head as I turn back to the dirty dishes in the sink. A mindless activity. That should help stop the thoughts of uselessness. I wipe my eyes with the back of my palms, just to dry the escaped pools of tears that managed to form. _Don't cry. Don't cry.  
_

 _I'm not useless_. I keep the line playing in my head as I grab a large plate with eggs stuck on top. I grab the raggedy sponge and make harsh circles on the surface, desperately trying to focus on cleaning.

With one wrong twist of my wrist, I drop the sponge and it lands onto the edge of the sink, sloughing back in the water. The plate is not so lucky.

It drops onto the kitchen tile, breaking into large and tiny shards all over the ground. I hiss at the loud noise, and all remnants of reality leave my mind. My only thoughts are walkers breaking down the walls, wreaking havoc over Alexandria.

 _They heard you. They're coming for you._

Some part of my mind screams out that it's not real, that it's all in my head, but I can't stop the onslaught of images in my brain. They flash in my mind like a movie, people dead and the undead coming after me. _Everyone's going to die and it's all your fault. They heard you and they're coming to kill you and everyone you love.  
_

I drop to the ground, only vaguely aware of the tiny shards of the broken ceramic digging into the denim covering my knees, and hastily try to clean up my mess. My brain isn't working properly; normally, one would grab a dustpan or even the damp kitchen towel by the sink. But for me, each rational thought I would usually have has shut off and I don't even think about it. Instead, I bring my palms down to the tile and brush the shards, both big and small, into a misshapen pile. My next thought is to bring my hand around a large shard of the dish, curling my fingers around the pointed edges to pick it up and discard it in the trash.

I gasp in pain as the edge cuts through my skin. _Stupid. Stupid_. My weight swigs me backward, from the balls of my feet onto my ass. I grasp at my wrist tightly, watching the steady bead of droplets fall onto pale marbled tile.

It's a decent gash on my left hand, angled downward from my index finger to the middle of my palm. The mantra in my head changes. It's added another line without my consent.

 _They heard you. Now they smell you. They're coming for you. They smell you._

 _They're coming for you.  
_

I almost let out a shriek of fear as the front door to the house opens, making my thoughts true. _They found me. They're coming to kill me._

"Anyone in here?" A familiar voice calls out. At least, it sounds familiar. I can't pinpoint who it is through the blood rushing in my ears. "I heard a crash."

 _They heard you._

I press my back against the cupboard beneath the sink, panting heavily but trying not to make any unnecessary sound.

"Helloooo." The voice calls again. Footsteps follow the sound, making their way closer to the kitchen door. "Anyone?"

 _They're coming for you._

The footsteps get closer and closer before they stop completely. A figure looms in the open doorway, their shadow huge on the ground in front of me.

"... Alyssa?" The figure asks.

And I begin to cry.

"Hey, hey, hey." The person immediately goes to me, their arms pulling me into a hug on the floor. I bawl into their shirt, holding on tightly to them as they pull me a few feet away from the broken dish. An arm goes around my back, making soothing circles while the other goes to the back of my head, cradling it. Through my blurry vision I can't see who it is, nor did I pinpoint the voice, but there's only one person I know to give hugs like this. Glenn.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay, you're okay." He whispers to me soothingly. He doesn't ask what happened, or why I'm bleeding, or anything. He just holds me close, and I'm grateful for it. I can't handle anything more right now.

"No, I'm not." I rasp out between gasps.

He doesn't skip a beat. His grip tightens around me and he says, "But you will be," with such confidence I almost believe him. So I give a halfhearted nod into his shoulder as I slump against him even more. I make a mental note that Emma is very lucky to have a brother like Glenn. He must've given her the best hugs after she was dumped, or if she was having a bad day.

We stay on the floor a little while longer, my gasps of tears slowly turning to hiccups. The hiccups then die out and the twin tears on my face dry, caked onto my skin.

The hand cradling the back of my head goes to the one I kept on his shoulder, the one I cut. He pulls it in front of his face, examining the gash.

"You're bleeding." Glenn says. I nod to him.

"C'mon." He begins to stand, and I step away from him so I can get up too. "Let's get you cleaned up." I nod obligingly a second time, and he leads me to the room where he and Maggie rest in.

Currently, it's technically not their room. But it seems like Rick will tell the group we don't need to bunker in the living room at night anymore, and I can easily foresee them taking this to sleep in. Glenn sets me on the edge of the bed, leaving me for a second to grab some first aid kit in the adjoining bathroom. I hold the bloody palm out past the bed, letting the small drops fall on the hardwood floor. My other hand grasps the wrist tightly.

"Okay," Glenn starts, sitting beside me and opening the pale white plastic container, "Lemme see your hand."

Only shaking slightly, I bring my palm closer. His hands gingerly hold it by the edges, inspecting it. "Looks a bit deep. You'll probably need some stitches. Ever had those before?"

I shake my head at him. "Lucky. Once I fell off my bike and managed to split my forehead open. I needed three of them. Hurt like a bitch."

My eyes widen to him as he grabs some gauze from the out and presses it to the slice. He looks back at my expression and grimaces slightly. "Sorry, that didn't help, did it?" I smirk at the response. As he presses the gauze down I hiss a little at the pressure. His other hand goes back to the kit, grabbing some alcohol to pour.

About half an hour later and five _very painful_ stitches on my hand, I finally get the new wound wrapped up and finished with. The white gauze is a stark contrast against my tanned skin.

"Ta da." Glenn unceremoniously finishes, tossing the dirty gauze in the nearby trash by the nightstand. "It's gonna hurt like hell the next coupla days and you won't be able to use a knife with it, but it'll get better."

I nod in gratitude and quickly scribble a thanks onto his palm with my finger. "Anytime." He smiles to me. He sets the first aid kit back in the bathroom and flops at the front of the bed, lying sideway on the sheets.

"Can I ask you something?" Glenn asks, opening his palm to me. I raise an eyebrow at him. "SURE," I write down.

"Okay." He sits up in front of me, his expression built only of concern. Concern, I'm certain, meant for me. "What... Happened to you? I mean-"

He shifted in his spot, shimmying a little before continuing, "I've seen you cry before, but... You look like you completely broke down, Alyssa."

I pressed my lips in a thin line. _What_ _ **did**_ _happen to me?_ I push a short strand of hair behind my ear, thinking for a moment.

I spell out, "I BROKE A PLATE," into his hand. I can't bring myself to say what _actually_ happened.

His head shakes a little. "You know that's not what I meant." He says slowly.

I grimace and give a jerky nod. I sigh, closing my eyes and I take a nice big breath. Then I write, "PANIC ATTACK." Glenn nods.

"The first step to getting better is to admit it." He tells me. "And I know that you don't wanna hear that whole bullshit by-the-book checklist of getting better, but it's true. You can't just hold it in anymore. It's gonna destroy you."

I twist myself so I sit next to him instead, resting my head on his shoulder. He rests his head on top of mine, wrapping an arm around my shoulder comfortingly.

"I wanna hear it." I rasp out to him. "I wanna get better. I _need_ to get better."

He stays quiet, listening to me.

"I think I'm gonna try." I say. I don't sound confident at all, but if there's any place to start, it's here. Any form of talking is better than the silence I've subjected myself to for who the fuck knows how long.

"Try what?" Glenn asks. I note how his tone isn't condescending or innocent. He isn't trying to pull something out of me. He's trying to help. Like Glenn always has.

"Try. Anything." I answer. "Talking to people. Alexandria. A functioning member of this post-apocalyptic shit society. All of it."

"Good." Glenn gives my arms a squeeze. "If you need anything, I'm right here with you. For anything."

I smile. _He's such a good person. I don't think I'd be able to do this without him as my crutch._

"Emma's lucky to have a brother like you." I say.

"You think so?" He quips. From his voice I can tell he's smirking.

"Yeah." I nudge him playfully with my shoulder. "I know so."

* * *

 _A/N: Sooooo. What'dya think? Personally I LOVE writing Big Brother Glenn, so of course I would use him as Alyssa's crutch in her change back into the badass we know and love. I love to hear how you guys feel about this. I was a bit nervous coming to write about panic attacks, seeing as I've never had one or any form of PTSD, so if I've made it wrong I hope I don't make anyone mad._

 _Anyways, let me know your thoughts!_


	13. Chapter 13: In the Woods

_A/N: Hello! It hasn't even been a month since I last updated. Are ya proud of me? I may even be on a roll and get another one out before the year ends lol. I honestly hate myself for how long it takes me to update._

 _Well, I don't wanna dilly dally here. I hope you all like it!_

* * *

Glenn and I eventually leave the bed, going to clean up the broken plate and wipe the blood off the marble tile.

"C'mon," he calls me over to the sink. He sets himself on the right side, with the dirty dishes. "I wash and rinse, you dry?"

I nod to him. "Yeah, sure."

I get beside him and open the blinds, momentarily blinding us as the sun assaults our eyes. Then we get to work, cleaning the whole sinkful. He both scrubs and rinses on the sole fact of my bandages. I should at least keep them dry the first hour I have them on.

"Deanna tells me I'm gonna be part of the runners." Glenn makes small talk. Once we're done we lead to the open living room. I lean against the gray wall by the windows, looking out to the huge metal fortress of a wall a couple yards away. It seems peaceful out today.

"A runner?" I question.

"Yeah." He sets himself on the couch, his hands resting against the back of his head. His eyes close, relaxed, as he continues. "We go out and grab supplies. Her son, Aidan, leads the group."

"Have you been out at all?" From the corner or my eye I see someone moving to the wall outside. I squint; looking at facial features from far away is difficult. I can tell it's none of our group. _Who is that_?

"No. He wants us to go out today, or tomorrow. He wants to see what we can do."

"You don't sound happy with that." I note. The person outside begins to climb the metal monster, and I catch a flash of long brown hair from their hoodie. _Enid_.

"He's cocky. And a dick. I'm not sure how it's gonna go."

I hum in response, my eyes trailing Enid as she makes it to the top of the wall.

"Whatcha looking at?" Glenn asks, getting up from the couch. He stands in front of the window, fingers trailing the bottom frame of the glass.

"Enid." I say. She goes on the other side and began what I can only assume is a slow descent to freedom.

"Enid." He repeats. "Who's that?"

"Another teenager." I explain. "She's from the outside, too."

"Do we like her?"

"Sure." I give a small smile. "So far she hasn't given me any reason not to."

Momentarily, I'm a little jealous of her. Of the freedom she gives herself.

"She do this often?" Glenn continues. _So we're playing twenty questions, huh?_

"Carl told me she's done it a couple times." I want to join her. To go past the wall and breathe a little. It feels like I'm suffocating in Alexandria.

"You wanna follow her." He says it like a statement, not a question. Of course he would think that. He knows I feel like a caged animal here.

"... Yeah. A little." I shrug my shoulders.

"Then go." Glenn gives my shoulders a light push to the door.

"Wait, really?" I question, his strong arms shoving me in the direction of the door.

"I promise I won't tell." He says with a wink. He swings the door open and holds it for me. "So long as you're back before dinner."

My heart swells in gratitude for him. "Thanks!"

"Anytime."

I hurriedly push through the doorway, bounding down the steps and twist to the right, straight for the wall. Before my footsteps lead me, though, I turn back to the house.

"Thank you." I say earnestly. "I mean it."

It's for more than just letting me go. The smile that spreads on Glenn's face tells me he understands what I mean. _Thank you for trying to put me back together._

"You don't need to thank me. Just promise you'll try."

"I will. Promise."

"Good. Now _go_!" He lets the door swing shut in front of me, stopping me from stalling my trip. With a genuinely happy smile ghosting my features, I run over to the wall and begin my climb.

There's tiny metal bars pushed through the lining of the wall panel. Enid must have put them there to climb with. They're strategically placed a few feet away from each other, giving a close enough gap for use. Experimentally, I tug on the first one, just above my head from the ground. _Sturdy. Well, let's give it a shot._

I lurch forward, pulling with all my strength to go up on the wall. The new cut on my hand stings in pain momentarily, and I shift the grip on the bar to get my weight off it. My legs shake underneath me while I continue up the makeshift steps, climbing higher and higher until I reach the top.

Once I get up, I grasp the edges of the sheet metal, gathering up enough strength to flip over to the other side. I hoist my legs upward, twisting myself over the barely-foot-long wall. I dangle from my arms on the top, my head just barely peaking over the top as I let myself down onto a wooden bar on the outside.  
 _Wow_ , I think to myself. _Alexandria is actually kinda… pretty. Looks normal, like before._

Then I drop to the bar, almost losing my balance as it shakes beneath me. I look down, seeing a couple more wooden bars, set a couple feet apart.  
I internally groan. _Here we go_.

* * *

Five wooden bar hops and a _very_ unceremonious drop to the dirt later I'm finally on the outside of Alexandria. I breathe in the air; it's almost fresher on the outside.  
There's no visible footprints out here. Wherever Enid is, she made it there fast and safely. _Damn. Looks like we're playing a game of hide and seek._

I'm only a few yards into the trees when I realize, _fuck, I don't have a weapon. Not even my knife_. I'm so used to being equipped 24/7 that it never registered in my brain that I'm not correctly prepared. _Shit_.

Well, hopefully I'm not ambushed by a herd of walkers. I can handle one, maybe even two. Any more than that and I'm toast. _If I can find Enid, she could cover us. She should have something, at least._

The thought makes my legs move faster. Still steady and quiet, but there's more of a spring in my step. Self-preservation is a wonderful motivator outside the walls.

"You can quit hiding now." A voice rings from... Somewhere. I eye my surroundings, looking for her. I can't see anything but green leaves and large bushes.

"I gotta admit, you're better than Carl." Enid pulls out from behind a large oak, a smug smile on her face. I immediately notice the large knife on a belt to her side and a backpack resting comfortably on her shoulders. "He's like an elephant. Steps on anything that makes noise."

I nod. Carl is many things, but stealthy in the forest is not one of them.

"What're you doing out here?" She asks. Her head cocks a little to the side, staring at me.

I almost contemplate not answering. It's easier to clam up and leave her than it is to answer someone I barely know. But Glenn's voice rings inside my head. _"Try. Promise me you'll try."_

"I feel..." My voice is still a little scratchy, but I give a hard swallow and try again. "I feel like I can't breathe in there."

She nods, her look at me contemplative. "It's too big. Too pristine."

"Too perfect."

"Yeah." She agrees. I stand there, silently waiting for her to make the next move. _Let me come with? Leave me here? What're you gonna do?_

Slowly, she angles herself on the path, making room for a person, _me_ , to join beside her.

Graciously, I make my way over to her, keeping enough space between us. Slowly, we begin a small trek through the trees, making our way through the large branches. The remnants of the storm last week still shows. There's a few broken branches over the grass and dirt, making us change our path a couple times.

It's silent. The forest makes its normal noises; birds cawing, leaves rustling, small gusts of wind breezing past us. But Enid, well... Doesn't seem like she's the person for small talk.

"Where are we going?" I ask quietly, stepping over some broken branches stuck in the dirt.

She maneuvers around them instead, adjusting the pack straps on her shoulders. "Anywhere. Away. Who the fuck knows?"

 _Cheery_.

"I'm guessing you've been out here often."

She shrugs. "Often enough."

 _Oh. Super cheery_.

"Why?"

She sets the backpack down, dropping it heavily to a patch of dirt besides a thick tree. Her ass immediately follows, landing against the tree. She sits, a stoic expression on her face and a monotonous tone following. "Same reason as you."

I sit down beside her, my version much more graceful as I take the time to plop down. "Well, for _me_ , I'm used to outside. Inside feels like I'm getting suffocated. It's too much like before."

She nods, listening to my words but her expression is uncaring. My hands grab at a stick a few inches away from us and I pull it towards me. It's thin enough that I can easily snap through it, and long enough that I'll get more than two pieces from it.

 _SNAP_! It breaks in half, almost even on both ends. I drop half in between Enid and me, and begin to break the half into halves again. It helps to keep my hands moving and it fills the silence between us. It seems too heavy, and I want to break it. I don't want us to go back to Alexandria hating each other, or just neutral towards each other. I want us to be able to work. At least a little bit.

"So," she grabs the half of stick on the ground and a knife, pulling the knife down its side to whittle it. "Why're you here instead of your boyfriend? Any particular reason?"

I shrug my shoulders, using a tiny edge piece of the broken stick to pull through some dirt beside me. It crumbles, making a small grove in the ground. "We didn't plan it. He was out of the house, I saw you going over the wall. So I decided to follow."

Her hands turn the stick over, beginning to whittle at the other side of the stick. It begins to make a point on the edge. I press on. "What about _your_ boyfriend? Does Ron know you go out here?"

Her nose wrinkles at the term, "boyfriend." The immediate answer following is a hard shake of her head. "No, and I wanna keep it that way. He doesn't understand going outside. He thinks it's dangerous."

"Has he ever been out here?"

"No. And he doesn't want to."

The words are met with silence on my part. _Why didn't she like me calling Ron her boyfriend? Do I even wanna bother asking?  
_

In a split second decision, I do. _If she doesn't answer, at least I tried._

"Ron _is_ your boyfriend, right?" I ask, wanting to press further but not wanting to invade her personal life. "Did you two have a tiff or something?"

Her eyebrows furrow, and the movements in whittling her stick get a little bit harsher.

"Sorry." I immediately apologize. "I don't mean to pry."

"It's complicated." Is her answer. She refuses to look at me, her eyes trained on the bits of wood that drop from her stick. I nod and drop my pieces, leaning back against the trunk of the tree and closing my eyes. The sun is bright today, shining brought the leaves and onto my face. _It's almost peaceful._

I hear Enid sigh heavily beside me, and I crack open an eye to look at her. She drops her stick and brings her knees close to her chest, her arms going around them tightly. "You really wanna know?" She asks in a huff.

"... Yeah. Tell me."

"When you're in a place like this- a place like Alexandria, it's best to not fight the change." She explains. Her eyes stare ahead of her, not to me. "I found that out the first couple of months. What would a normal teenager do, being around a decent-looking guy?"

"Hang out with him?" I reason.

She nods, agreeing. "Exactly. It's better to blend in to your surroundings then it is to fight against it. It's not that he's a bad guy; I'm just not attracted to him. I'm not attracted to any of them. But it's easier to pretend I am then have the rest of the Safe Zone worrying about me."

 _Wait_. I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean by, any of them?"

"I'm not attracted to anyone in Alexandria." She shrugs. "They're not my type."

"What's your type then?" I smirk slyly, bumping my shoulder against hers. She flinches at the action and my smirk drops momentarily. "Tall, dark, and handsome?"

She shakes her head, and I vaguely see the outline of a smile. It's not there; not yet. But the edges of her lips twitch and I'll take it. I don't I've ever seen her smile in the whole week I've been here.

"No. My type is petite, blonde, and beautiful." Enid clarifies, though her words are mumbled and she looks down to the ground.

 _Woah_.

"So you're-"

"Yeah." Her hands go back to the stick, whittling away. The movements are choppy; she's done better even a minute ago. _She's nervous. Why_?

"That's cool." I shrug my shoulders. "I don't care. Neither would Carl, or any of us newbies."

"You guys would be the first." She mutters under her breath, pulling a large stripe down on the wood.

"Really?" I pry a little more.

"Yeah." She sighs. Her hands, still holding onto the knife and stick, droop to the dirt. "Everyone thinks it's something they can fix. Something that _needs_ to be fixed. You know how many times the old lady across my house has told me I just haven't found the right man yet?"

My lips press into a hard line. "Damn. You think people wouldn't care in an apocalypse."

"I was hoping so."

"Well, the Team Family motto is: if you've found happiness at a time like this, good for you. Chase it. Hold it close. Doesn't matter if you're gay or straight or bi or whatever. If you have love, cherish it."

Enid looks down to the ground. Most of the hair tucked behind her ear falls out, covering her face. "You're lucky to have been with them."

"Trust me, you have _no idea_."

* * *

We decide to head back to the Safe Zone after wandering around a little bit more. We've been out for a little over an hour, maybe more, and our disappearances wouldn't have been noticed yet.

Enid must come out often. She knows this forest like the back of her hand. Where to hide if there's too many walkers to kill (a hollowed out tree big enough for two people,) where a small nearby river is in case Alexandria runs out, and where the end of the forest is, near a highway. We briefly stop by each landmark of hers, and I make a foggy mental map of it.

On our way back, she tells me, "Deanna's having a dinner in a couple of days. She'll ask you to go with the rest of the group. When she asks, say yes. Make small talk. Blend in."

I nod slowly. "Make a cover for myself."

"You got it." Enid says. We pull tall, sloping branches from our faces, finally back at the wall. "They'll think you're getting better. They'll stop worrying and leave you alone."

"Do you go?" I ask. We continue the last couple of feet to the tall metal wall.

"When I first got here, yes. There were a couple, to help the newcomers settle in to the way things are here. After that, I started dating," she makes air quotes around the term, "Ron. They still invite me, but I decline. Politely. And since I'm dating him and stay over his house a lot, they don't mind."

Momentarily my heart hurts a little for Ron, for being used as camouflage, but I understand Enid's reasoning. "I see."

"You go first." She gestures to the wide beams on the wall. "You have people waiting for you."

I furrow my brow, but do as I'm told and hop onto the first one. "You don't live with anyone?"

"Olivia." She answers, and I begin to pull myself onto the second beam. _Damn, such an arm workout_. "But Olivia's always busy and if I'm not there she assumes I'm with Ron."

"Perfect alibi." I compliment through gritted teeth. _So, this is what it's like to skip arm day._ My biceps burn as I pull up, and I make sure to put more weight on the right than I do on the left. The stupid new cut flares in pain if I move it the wrong way.

"Yup." She pops the, "p," at the end. I continue my climb up the wall with more difficulty than I'd care to admit. Once I'm at the top I look down to Enid and flip my legs on the other side, taking a quick breather.

"Once you hit the bottom give the wall two taps, okay? I'll wait five minutes and go down. I'll take the metal bars with me as I go."

"Gotcha." I agree. My legs inch their way to the first bar on this side, and I begin my descent. "See ya later, Enid."

"Yeah, see you."

Going down is much easier than climbing up. _Much. Easier_. My arms are definitely going to be at least a little sore tomorrow. I hop from metal bar to metal bar, going further down and eventually make it to the bottom. _Finally. I hate climbing_.

The last thing I do at the wall is give the metal sheet in front of me two hard bangs with my fist. I get a single one back in reply; Enid's way of telling me she got the message. _Thanks for the walk_.

I turn from the wall and begin walking to the left, where I find the houses. But, I don't want to head in just yet. It's not like anyone will be home yet. It's still early enough that no one would be back from their respected, "jobs." So instead I make my way to the back of the houses, and the vague sound of a _THUNK_ hitting something enters my ears.

 _WPHISHH, THUNK_. It repeats itself over. I turn to the sounds, following behind the houses until I come to the overly large tree I once decided I would eventually climb on.

On the other side of the massive trunk is Sam, throwing knives stuck to the bark as he flings them over. His eyes peer through the mess of shaggy hair on his head to me before turning back to the tree. I watch in amusement as he throws the last one.

 _Not bad_ , I mentally comment. _Pretty damn high. And he got them all in the same place._

"ST!" He exclaims. "Long time no see. How've you been?"

"... It's only been a few days." I mutter under my breath. It sounds better than it did with Enid. Even though I haven't been talking for long, it's getting stronger with each word.

"Ah, she finally speaks." He goes to the tree and yanks the knives out of the marked bark. I try to count how many lengthy cuts there are, but there's too many. It's not his first time doing this. "Well, guess I can't call ya ST anymore. What's your real name?"

"Call me whatever, but my name is Alyssa." I say. I push a strand of hair behind my ear, keeping my hands busy. He makes me nervous. I don't know why.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl." He comments, bowing slightly and holding out a knife to me. "Does the pretty lady throw knives as well as I do?"

"'Pretty lady,' would rather be called by her name," I roll my eyes, "But yes, she does throw."

I grab the one from his hand, only momentarily noting how warm his palm is, and twist the knife by the hilt. My eyes trail over the shine on the blade. _Sharp_ , I note. _Awesome_. "It's been a while, I'll admit. I don't normally throw knives anymore."

"You can't be worse than Ron." Sam cracks a smirk at me. I smile back and position myself to where he was standing earlier. I take a deep breath and toss it.

It lands lower, _much lower_ , than the other marks on the tree, but it buries itself deep into the wood. Sam whistles, slinking over and pulling it out.

"Not bad." He comments.

"That was bad." I shake my head at him, laughing a bit.

"Okay, it was a little bad." He grins at me. The knife is in my hand again, but this time he pulls my elbow up. "Try it this way. Don't put your arm down so much."

"Got it." I nod, and once he's out of the way I go again. The blade ends up a couple inches higher. Not as high as the marking he's made, but it's better than my last throw.

"There ya go, ST." A couple measly claps follow. "I knew you had it in ya."

"Yeah, yeah, peanut gallery." I grab the knife again and throw it again. It ends up barely a centimeter above my last throw. "Where are the others?"

"Oh!" He takes them from the ground and puts the other two in my hand.

I try to get the knife going faster with my next toss. I can't tell if it does though. It ends lower on the trunk and I mentally curse.

"How long have you been here?" I ask nonchalantly, making small conversation.

"A month before Enid." He answers. "She and I get along really well. Especially outside the wall."

I don't comment. I throw the last knife and thankfully, it goes a few inches to the side of the tall toss.

"Yeah, she goes out." He looks straight to my face. "I saw you go over a while ago, too."

His gaze wanders into my own and I try to just let it go. "Yeah, I did. I just needed to breathe."

The dark blue in his eyes aren't stormy this time around. They're soft, a bit of compassion in them. "I get it. I do it too."

I break the eye contact with him and grab the knives from the bark. He continues, "Not as much as Enid, but it helps me think sometimes."

"Yeah." I have nothing else to say. I throw two knives to the bark again. I feel like my aim is getting better, even if it's only a little bit. _I'm praying they are, at least_. They're inching just a little higher and a flare of pride sweeps through me.

In the calm silence, I ask, "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Too many to count." He shrugs. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering." I throw the last knife and wait a beat before adding, "How many people have you killed?"

His eyebrows raise at me, a mix of shock and concern at the question.

"Don't lie and say zero." I add, taking a step towards him. "You were out there. You've had to. We've all had to."

He stands, contemplating. His nose furrows while he thinks, and I make a mental note of how funny he looks in deep thought.

"... Ten? I think?"

"Why?"

"Survival." His eyes bore into mine. "They were going to kill me. I killed them first."

I nod and swallow thickly. _He's pretty damn intense_. "I see."

He stares at me intently, and I stare back. I don't move from my spot, but he cocks his head to the side.

"Did I pass the test?" Sam says.

"It wasn't a test." I answer.

"It was." I don't argue this time. "So, did I?"

I think a moment. "... Yeah, you did. You got my trust, if that makes ya feel important."

He smirks. "Nice. I work well with trust."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and turn away from him, going to the tree to grab his knives.

"Wait." He calls to my back. "I get to ask you too. Trust is a two way street."

"Fine." I agree, yanking a knife out. "Ask."

"Okay." He cracks his knuckles. "How many walkers did _you_ kill?"

I pull out a second knife. "I have no idea. Too many."

"Mmhmm. How many people did you kill?"

I pull out the last one and bite my bottom lip. "Three? Maybe four?"

"Why?" Sam strolls his way to the tree, holding a hand out for the knives.

I hand the bunch to him, stalling to answer the question. _Well, there was the person at the gates of the prison when it fell. I shot at them when all hell broke loose. Then there was the guy at Terminus…_ "Two, they were protecting my group. The third..." I think back to the day the Governor came to the gates of what used to be my home. After everything. When I found mom in the fields. The woman that was shot in the leg, sitting, begging for help. "The third was when I lost a lot of people. Good people."

"Revenge." Sam offers.

I nod, a knot forming in my stomach. _Revenge_. "Yeah, you could say that."

He begins walking slowly, passing me. Without thinking I follow him, strolling beside his tall figure. "Change of pace, but are you going to that dinner thing in a few days?"

"Probably not." He shrugs. But a sly smirk grows on his face. "Maybe if you ask me nicely. I'll be your date." He even gives a playful wink.

I roll my eyes. "I would _totally_ say yes, but I think my boyfriend would be against that. Sorry, Sammy." I give a playful sympathetic pat on his shoulder.

"The guy with the cowboy hat, right?" He leans into my hand, dramatically wiping away a fake tear. "It's not fair. I'm so heartbroken."

"You've only known me for a week." I whisper sweetly to him. "You'll get over me."

"The one that got away." He nods, giving a fake sob.

I pull my hand away from his shoulder and repeat an eye roll. "Drama queen."

"Thank you. I try." And he bows dramatically low. _Man, he is the epitome of, "extra."_

As we keep walking, I notice that we pull through the houses, bringing us to the front. We pass by an older woman walking a dog. I attempt a smile at her, like people used to before. "So, no dinner party for you?"

He shrugs again. "I dunno. Maybe I'll make an appearance. Maybe I won't. I don't really do crowds."

"Neither do I." I nod. "But I'll be there, if you happen to make your way in."

"I'll keep it in mind, ST."

My feet stop moving, and I realize that our leisurely stroll brought us back to the house I'm staying in. The place I'm supposed to call home. _Wow. Time flies when you have the right company, I guess._

"I guess this is where I stay and you go, right?" I ask. I skip a step on the porch and turn to look at him.

"Yeah. I gotta get home soon, anyways. Aaron and Eric will be looking for me if I don't show up."

I nod in understanding. "Well, I'll see ya later, Sam."

"See ya, ST." As he turns from me, he gives me a lazy wave. I give one back, a little more energetically than him.

He's a good couple yards away before I call out to him, "You know I gave you my real name, right?"

"Yeah? And?" He responds, a cheeky grin adorning his features. "I like ST. Rolls off the tongue nicely."

"Whatever." I can't help but smile back.

 _So maybe not everything in Alexandria makes me want to pull my hair out. There's at least two people that I can tolerate._

 _It might not be so bad here, after all._

* * *

 _A/N: Ta da! I'm really proud of how this one came out. I've been planning that conversation with Enid in the forest for AGES. Alsoo... How do you guys feel about me making her a lesbian? I've always had that headcannon about her (even though in canon she's dating Carl (but it's okay because this is fanfiction and that ain't happening either, sooo,)) so how do you all feel about that?_


	14. Chapter 14: Dinners in Alexandria

I stay in the house by myself for most of the afternoon with a couple books to pass the time. Wrong choice, I guess. I seemed to have missed a lot of fun. At the dinner table, some of us tell stories about our days. Not once has a day in Alexandria been as filled as it was today.

In the time span of a few hours, Glenn, Tara, and Noah went on a trial run with Aidan. Glenn says that Aidan risked their lives, and he's not fit to go beyond the walls. They got in a fistfight that most of Alexandria saw.

Rick and Carl went beyond the walls, killing walkers together. Talk about father-son bonding time. They came back just in time to watch the fight between Glenn and Aidan. Rick tried to break it, and that led to Deanna naming him and mom the new, "constables," of Alexandria.

Maggie's been officially taken under Deanna's wing. She tells us over pulled pork that Deanna saw leadership material in her, and that tomorrow she's going to, "shadow," Deanna's day. The rest of us have no other interesting stories to tell, so we begin to eat our small dinner in silence.

"Pass the peas, please." I whisper out to Rick and Carl. They're by the bowl of veggies on my left, near the head of the table. I'm in the middle, next to mom.

Most eyes turn to me, some in confusion and some in amazement. Rick's blues bore into my own, a grin on his face.

"What?" He asks.

"The peas." My cheeks burn at the attention everyone's giving me. "They're in front of you. CanIpleasehavethepeas?"

He grabs the bowl with more vigor than is necessary. "Yeah. Yeah, here."

"Thank you." I say it a little louder than before.

As I pour the greens next to a slice of bread on my plate, the whole room is nearly silent. I can feel them all staring at me.

"Please talk." I request. "It's too quiet in here."

A knock at the door sounds, loud and proud. _Oh, thank god. I hate being the center of attention._

Glenn stands from his chair and grabs the door. A cheery voice rings through, "Evening, Glenn! I just wanted to drop these off."

"Yeah, sure, bring 'em in." He answers.

Deanna walks through the living room and into the kitchen, holding two hangers in hand. Hanging from them is what I assume clothing, but they're covered in a black garment bag so we can't see inside.

"Hi everyone." Deanna greets. A chorus of hi's and hellos follow. "I just came by to drop these off. Rick, this one's for you. And Michonne, this ones yours. I hope they fit." She hands each of them a hanger. Mom gives a warm, "thank you," while Rick gives her a curt nod.

"And I want all of you to know, tomorrow I'll be hosting a welcome party in your honor at my house. I hope you all can come to it."

"A party?" I ask, willing my voice to be loud.

Her eyes gleam at me. "Yes, a small dinner party. No need to dress up," she chuckles, "but we'll have food and drinks there. It'll be a nice change of pace for you all, especially after this evenings activities."

I assume she means the fight between Glenn and Aidan, so I just nod at her explanation.

"Well, I guess that's it folks." Her bright eyes scan over the whole group, giving each of us a wide grin. "I'll see you all tomorrow." Her shoes click against the tile as she leaves the house, and it's silent again.

The next proclamation comes from Rick as we all clean up the table. "I think we can sleep in our own rooms today. In both houses. Everyone okay with that?"

I shrug my shoulders in response, even though my heart pounds a little faster in my chest at the thought of being alone for the night.

The rest of the group agrees with Rick. Some of us branch off and leave this house for the one next door. It feels wrong, watching them all leave, but I will myself to believe that they'll be okay. _It's only for the night. They're right next to us. They'll be okay._

Mom's resting her weight against the counter, her hands grasping the edge behind her lazily. My good hand goes to poke her shoulder. In a soft voice, I tell her, "I think I'm going to shower upstairs."

I can tell she's suppressing a grin. Her lips press a hard kiss to my forehead. "Okay, Liz. See you later."

My lips press into an awkward thin line, nodding to her. I turn away from her to the left, and my hand grabs the hilt of a large knife from behind my back. _Just in case. For my own damn sanity._ Then I bound up the stairs, taking two at a time and going into the first bedroom to the right. The one that Carl and I kissed in the first day here.

I stow the knife under the pillow on the bed before stepping into the stream of droplets. The shower is quick and hot, and I revel in the feeling of my skin burning under the water. My bad hand, with the bandage, gets soaked too quick and a hiss of pain escapes me.

When I get out, I maneuver the hand away from me, trying to dry the rest of my body first before I inch up the arm. The bandage is beginning to slip off my hand and I mentally curse. As I pull the damn thing off, I think, " _I need help. I need a new one_."

With difficulty, I shimmy on panties and a pair of pants, and when I flip on my bra I notice the difference of strength in both hands. It takes longer than necessary because my fingers ache at the movement in my palm. Finally, a shirt is awkwardly pulled on from my good arm first and the bad slinks through.

I look over the patchwork that Glenn did to my cut. They're slightly jagged and not in a straight line, but they do their job and hold the laceration in place. The edges of the broken skin is dark red and sensitive, and I can feel _every movement_ I make with it. I twist my pinky experimentally and wince. _Stupid. Stupid_.

I head out the door and go to the big bedroom down the hall, my good hand grasping the knob and twisting.

"Mom?" I call out into it. I find her and Rick standing together by a large wooden dresser, clothes hangers dangling from the door handles. _What Deanna gave them._

"What'd ya think, short straw?" Rick asks, his eyes going over their new constable outfits. The outfit has a pale grey, almost white shirt, with the breast pockets a dark grey. The jacket and pants match the dark shade, and the jacket has a police badge on the left side. There's a patch on the left shoulder, a bright blue with the words, "Police Force," at the bottom. They get to wear ties as well. One tie is a dark grey, nearly black, and the other tie is a pale grey.

"Not too shabby." I comment. "You guys will be the talk to the town. You'll look snazy, at least."

"At least she didn't put us in khakis." Mom muses. Rick laughs and zips up the bag that presumably is his.

"What'd you come here for?" Rick asks me. I hold the bad hand out, pointing to the jagged stitching.

"I need another gauze wrap around it." I explain, my head twisting over to mom. "Could you help me real quick?"

She nods. "Yeah." She looks over to Rick momentarily. "You get the first shower then. Don't hog all the hot water."

He just grins in response. "No promises."

I roll my eyes at the banter between the two. _They would be cute together. They deserve happiness._

"C'mon Liz." Mom grabs my good hand and begins to tug me to the door. "Rick's a bad influence. Don't learn his selfish behavior."

"Can do." I wave over my shoulder to him as I'm pulled past the threshold of the doorframe. She stops tugging on me as we walk side by side through the hallway, but her hand is still in mine. It doesn't leave until we're in my designated bedroom, and she lets me sit on the bed while she grabs the gauze. Her hands are slow as she delicately begins to wrap it.

"You know," she starts, her voice low and her eyes trail the movement of the bandage, "Andre used to scrape his knees all the time. He was a clumsy kid. He would hurt himself and momma came to the rescue, a band-aid and lollipop in hand to soothe him."

I smile at the thought of mom soothing a three year old. "You never talk about him."

"It hurts to, sometimes. Other times it's like a breath of air to remember him. He was a good kid."

I nod to her. "Of course he was. He was a part of you." Mom doesn't suppress a smile at the comment.

We sit in silence again as she puts on the medical tape, securing the gauze in place.

 _She doesn't know how I got it_ , I muse mentally. _I should say something_.

"I broke a plate..." I begin slowly. "I had a panic attack earlier."

"I know." She nods to my words. "Glenn told me before dinner."

"Oh..." I take a deep breath, waiting for her to say something. _C'mon, she_ _ **has**_ _to say something._

"Alyssa..." Mom starts. Though the gauze is secure, she doesn't drop my hand. She brings both of hers to shroud mine, holding it tightly in her lap. "Why didn't you come to me? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I... I don't know." I say lamely.

"You don't know?" She raises an eyebrow precariously. "Liz, as a girl of many talents, keeping secrets is not one of them. Tell me the truth. Please."

I look up to her soft features, and the disappointment in myself grows. "Please." Her voice is quiet. "Tell me."

"I just..." I try to bring words together to form a coherent sentence. "I lost Beth. I lost my best friend. Again. It was like losing Sophia all over, but worse. I didn't know what to do with myself. And I didn't want you to worry. I didn't want anyone else to fuss over me. I just wanted to be alone."

"I went through the same thing, too." Mom says. "After Andre, Mike, and Terry. I hated anyone near me. No one could help in my mind."

I give a slow nod. "Yeah. Just like that. And even though you went through it all, I didn't want your help, or anyone's help for that matter. I just wanted solitude."

"I get it." She brings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "Trust me, out of all the people on this planet, I understand what's going on in your mind right now. But please tell me you don't wanna go through it alone now."

I nod into her shoulder. "No, I don't. Not anymore."

"Good." She presses a kiss to the top of my head, gingerly resting there. She whispers into my hair, "I don't wanna lose you, too."

My heart breaks at the thought. _She lost Andre. She lost Mike and Terry. Andrea, too. Of course she's been worried sick about you._

"You won't." The words escape my mouth before my brain catches up with it. My arms wrap around her as tight as I possibly can to try to convey how much I love her. "I promise."

* * *

I lie in the twin bed, awake as can be. The electric clock on the nightstand reads 1:36 in bright green, and I internally groan. At least when we dog pile in the living room I'm comfortable enough to sleep. Alone? That's another story.

My face snuggles comfortably into the marshmallow-like white pillow beneath my head. Underneath, my fingers curl around the hilt of the kitchen knife. Rationally, I think I won't need it. Not in Alexandria. But living out in the woods for so long has made this a habit, and it's not one I'm willing to break.

A soft knock on the door brings me out of my thoughts.

"Who's there?" I demand, sitting up and gripping the knife tighter. I hold it out in front of me, the tip of the blade pointing at the door.

"Just me." A familiar voice says on the other side. The knob turns slowly and I'm greeted by Carl. His hair is wet and unkempt, and he wears a simple blue t-shirt with shorts to bed. "I couldn't... I couldn't sleep alone."

I nod. "Me too." He closes the door slowly behind him, careful not to make too much noise. He stays by the door before asking, "Can I- do you mind if I sleep with you?"

The knife is set back underneath the pillow and I pat the open spot beside me.

"Thanks." He breathes a sigh of relief and pulls in beside me. We take a couple moments to adjust the blankets and sharing the couple pillows on top, but before long his arms are wrapped tightly around my waist and my head is snuggled comfily in the crook of his neck. My bad hand goes against his chest, my fingers lightly grazing the other side of his neck. In his arms, already my mind is more relaxed.

"You smell like coconut." Carl tells me. "It's weird."

"You can say that again." I flick my short hair over my shoulder and it sticks lightly on his arm. It's still decently wet from my shower. "I could smell your axe body spray from a mile away. What's the scent? Pine needles and manliness?"

He chuckles into my hair. "Pretty sure it's pine-something."

"It doesn't smell like you."

"And what do I smell like normally?"

"I don't know." I bury my head deeper and his arms automatically pull me closer until our bodies are fleshed together, keeping me wrapped like a warm cocoon. "Like the forest. Like grass and trees and... Something. I can't really describe it. Just... you."

"You smell wrong, too." He says. "And your voice is different, a little. Not wrong; just different."

"I noticed that." It's scratchy and a little raspy, but it's already getting better from use. I can tell the difference from this morning to now. "It's weak. But it's getting better. It was worse when I was talking to Sam earlier."

"Ron's brother?" Carl questions. His nose scrunches in confusion.

"No, the Sam that's our age. The orphan."

"Oh. That's worse." His grip on my waist tightens, almost possessively. "Why would you talk to _him_?"

"Because he's from the outside?" I state it as a question, moving my face a couple inches upward so I can see Carl scowling. "He understands us better than most. Like Enid does."

"I just don't like him. There's something off-"

"You've only talked to him _once_." I sit up in my spot, his arm falling from my waist to just a little lower on my butt. "And you glared at him for most of the thirty seconds you talked to him. Was it that bad of a first impression?"

"Would you be mad if I said yes?" Carl says, an innocent tone drawling from his words. His hand tries to pull me closer to him but I take it off my butt and set it to the side of the mattress.

"Yeah, I would be." I nod. "I think he's a decent guy. We should be making friends with him, not burning him at the stake."

Carl's eyes look the pale sheets bunched up at the end on the bed instead of me. The blue hue is almost glassy in the dark when he mutters out, "I don't like the way he looks at you."

I brow furrows. "What? The way he looks at-"

"He has a thing for you. I can tell."

"Can you?" I cross my arms together. "He knows we're together. And that I'm not interested. I made that pretty clear earlier, not that he asked."

Carl looks back to me, and I can't suppress the tiniest of grins on my face.

"Why are you smiling?" His scowl grows.

"Just that I now know Carl Grimes is a jealous boyfriend. It's kinda cute, albeit annoying."

"Annoying?" He groans, flying back into the pillows and rubbing his face furiously. "Just imagine if I was talking to Enid. Alone. And she was all over me. How would you feel?"

"Well, first of all," I rest my head on his chest sideways, pulling my legs close and encircling his waist with my arms, "Sam was _not_ all over me. If anything he was at least a couple feet away from me, almost at all times. He and I were throwing knives together. Second, I wouldn't need to worry about Enid. You're not her type."

"Oh, I'm not? How would you know that?" Carl sticks his tongue out at me, one arm going behind his head and the other going to play with my wet hair. I sigh into the movement. _I love it when he plays with my hair_.

"I jumped the wall with her today. We went through the woods for a good hour or two."

"Wow." He whistles. "You were busy today."

"Yup. Making friends and breaking plates."

"And breaking through your walls." He notes. "I missed the sound of your voice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He nods and looks down his chest at me. "And the way you sing. I miss that, too."

"I'll sing again, eventually. Maybe not now, but soon. For you." I smile sweetly at him.

"I'd like that."

"On one condition." I pull up, my face moving closer to his.

"Which is?"

"You back off of Sam. Be nice to him once in a while. He could be useful."

He rolls his eyes, but nods to the request. "Deal." He pecks my lips and brings me close, putting me on my side once more. I snuggle into him, wrapping one arm around him and his arms go around me.

"Good night, Carl." I whisper into his neck.

"Good night, Alyssa."

* * *

I wake up comfortably snuggled into Carl, seeping in his warmth. The sun is shining brightly through the window to my back, illuminating his soft features. My inner clock isn't working and I don't want to move Carl to check the time on the digital one beside the bed. _He looks so peaceful._

Carefully, my hand goes to his face and brushes aside a brown lock. I pull it back softly down his face, stopping at his cheek. His skin is so soft and radiates such a calming warmth that I don't wanna move it.

I let out a gasp of surprise as he shivers underneath my touch. "Good morning to you, too."

"I thought you were still asleep." I apologize. "I didn't mean to wake you."

I try to pull my hand back but one of his goes around mine, keeping it there. He nuzzles into the touch and sighs contentedly. "I was already gettin' there. Besides, what better way is there to wake up?"

I groan as I sit up. I go to stretch my arms out and sigh in relief as I hear a few satisfying _pops_ from my back. "What time is it?"

Carl pulls up from his spot, turning around to the nightstand on his side of the bed. "9:37... Oh my."

"Huh?" I peer over his shoulder, my arms lazily wrapping around him. His hands go to grab a small purple box from the stand, and a note underneath it, written in sharpie.

"Take a look." He hands me the box and I read the large, bolded letters, "Trojan: Pleasure Pack."

"Oh good lord." My face instantly goes red. I look into the box and inside are a few condoms scattered about. It seems the box had been used more than once before. "Who put that there?!"

" _'From the adults of Team Family. Use them wisely.'_ " Carl reads. "Whoever wrote this even put a winky face at the end."

"I'm going to kill all of them." I shove the box into his hands with force before standing up in lightning speed. "After I eat breakfast. Or during. I haven't picked yet."

"Calm down, angel." Carl laughs. _I still look like a cherry. Jesus Christ, they couldn't have been a bit more subtle?_ "At least they want us to be safe about it."

"But still." I go to the dresser in the corner of the room and yank out some jeans and a shirt.

"You're so embarrassed and it's adorable." I hear the sound of a drawer opening and the box being tossed in.

"You're not?" I question. I start a track to the bathroom so I can get dressed but Carl stops me halfway.

"Honestly? Not really." His hands rub up and down my arms soothingly, and I pray that the blush on my face is going down. "We're teenagers. Normally teenagers screw every chance they get."

"True." I nod. "I'm still gonna kick their asses, though."

"I wouldn't expect less from you." He grins. "But after we use one?"

My blush comes back full force. I manage to stutter out, "You-you're that confident, huh?"

"Maybe?" He shrugs, though it's stiff and unnatural. _We've never had a conversation about sex before. This is new territory, and we're both just a tad uncomfortable._

"What?" Carl asks, a hand going to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. "Is the thought of having sex with me _that_ bad?"

"Honestly?" I go past him and close the bathroom door halfway so I can still talk to him. I then pull off my shirt and begin to switch out of my pajamas. "No, it's not. I've thought about it before."

I finish putting on my jeans and socks and open the door again. My shoulder leans against the frame, and I puff out a big sigh to recharge my thoughts. "Probably more often than I'd care to admit."

"Really now?" He waggles his brows at me and leans in to my small form. "Do tell."

"Shut up, wannabe Casanova." I playfully shove his shoulder. "But, if I'm being truthful, I don't think I'm ready for anything like that yet. I trust you, a _lot_ ; more than I ever thought I could trust someone besides mom, but I just started talking again and getting better. I don't want to rush anything and screw shit up, y'know?"

Carl nods, understanding. I continue, "When we _do_ have sex, I want it to be because we both want it and are comfortable with it. I want to be in a good place mentally. You, too. We should both want it."

"I agree completely." Carl nods, smiling sweetly down to me. "I don't want to rush things, especially something as delicate as that." He presses a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin. "You should go down to breakfast. I'll change and follow in a minute."

"Okay." I agree and head to the door, closing it behind me so he can have some privacy and I head down the stairs.

When I wake up, normally there's a large buffet of eggs, bacon, and some general carb like toast or pancakes. Today, the kitchen is cleared and many dishes are in the drying rack besides the window. _Oh yeah, it's almost 10. Damn, we woke up_ _ **late**_ _._

"Looks like you two slept in for once." A heavy pat on my shoulder jostles me from my thoughts. A grin is resting on Glenn's face as he passes me and puts a dirty dish in the sink.

"I actually slept." I correct, going to our large pantry and pulling out some corn flakes. "For more than a couple hours. Progress, woo."

"Everyone's already out and about. Your mom and Rick are cruising through town in their new uniforms."

"They enjoying it?" I shake the flakes into a bowl, praying they aren't too stale.

"Michonne? Maybe. Rick? Not so much." I nod and stuff a spoonful in my mouth. _Ugh. This could be worse, but it definitely could be better._

"'Bout as much as I suspected from them." I sit down and push the flakes around with a spoon. _I shouldn't have put so much in. I won't eat all of it._

I force another spoonful in my mouth and Glenn sits across me, resting his elbows on the dark wood of the table and holding his hands together. I try to make more conversation. "No scavenging today?"

"With the dinner tonight?" His thumb lightly brushes over his top lip as he speaks, relaxed in his ministrations. "Nah. Deanna wants her sons there, so Aiden's staying in and helping set up. Besides, I don't think he'd be too keen on letting me go out today. I, 'screwed up,' his mission once, he wouldn't let it happen again."

"Idiot." I flick a few flakes to the side of the bowl.

"Yup." He pops the 'p' at the end. "Anything fun for you kids in class?"

"Besides learning the slope of a line?" I snort, pushing my flakes around some more. "Nada. Maybe I'll read more Hamlet. 'To be or not to be, that is the question.' All that shit."

"Hey, don't knock it 'til ya try it." Glenn counters. "I loved learning Shakespeare as a kid."

I shrug my shoulders. "Guess it isn't that important nowadays. I don't hold it up to the scholarly level you did when you went through it."

"Touché."

A moment of silence passes between us, only filled by the sound of my spoon moving corn flakes in the bowl. _I really shouldn't have taken so much. Gross._

"You gonna eat that?" Glenn asks.

I shake my head. "Nah, I took too much."

"You barely touched it."

"True. But I can't just force myself to eat so much. I'll get sick if I do." I argue.

"Fine." He leans over the table, giving a smirk. "But I have a proposition for you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"You eat, we'll say, half that bowl, and I'll..." He thinks for a moment, making up his mind, before saying, "a backflip!"

"A backflip." I say, unimpressed. "You can _really_ do one, landing it and all?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out, should you take the deal."

My eyes search his face, and I see his inner kid shining through. The gleam in his eye, the smirk on his face. He just wants to have fun.

"You're five years old." I comment, failing to suppress my grin.

"Probably." He grins. "Does that mean we have a deal?"

I scoop up some flakes and begin to chew on them, nodding.

When I finish my half, I pour the rest of my uneaten flakes back into the bag (no one needs to know, nor do they really care,) and Glenn and I go to the front of the house on a patch of grass.

"Okay." He bends his legs and stretches his arms out in front of him. "I haven't done one of these in a few years, but muscle memory's a thing. Should be easy."

I cross my arms and jut a hip out, smirking. "Sure, whatever you say. I'm just here to watch you fall flat on your ass."

"I'm gonna land this perfectly, and you're going to apologize."

"We'll see about that."

"You will! Just you wait."

He bends his legs one last time before Maggie turns the corner of the house, Deanna in tow. _Checking the perimeter, maybe? I mean, we_ _ **are**_ _at the edge of the town.  
_

"What's happening here?" Maggie goes beside me, pointing to her lovable idiot of a husband.

"Glenn and I made a deal. He's holding up his end of the bargain." I grin to her and Deanna. I notice a clipboard in her hands. _Ah, showing Maggie more of the ropes. She's gonna be leader of this place someday._

"Which is?" Deanna looks to me, her smile ever-present and large on her face.

"The best backflip Alyssa's ever seen." Glenn answers enthusiastically.

"Well, don't let us stop you." Maggie encourages, pointedly amused at his actions. The three of us step aside, giving him some room for error.

His expression falters slightly at the crowd in front of him. _He only expected me. Poor guy is gonna be embarrassed._ But it doesn't stop him.

"Okay, one... two... three!" He manages to make himself fly backwards, but as expected he couldn't stick the landing. My ears hear him land on the ground harshly. He lands flat on his stomach, arms splayed out at his sides.

Glenn groans from his spot, unmoving. I don't suppress the giggle in my throat, nor do the other two.

"I would just like to say that I'm not on the ground because it hurt. It's very," he moans again as he tries to move his arm forward, " _very_ comfy here. This grass is great."

I watch in amusement as he bends and gets into a kneeling position, brushing the dirt from his cheek. "This is the greatest deal I've ever made in the history of my life."

"Oh, shut up!" He sticks his tongue out at me from the ground.

"Never." I stick my tongue at him in response.

"I can't believe I married this dork." Maggie grins down to him.

"Best decision you made, right?" Glenn laughs as he stands up.

Maggie drawls out a, "suuure," to him before turning to me. "As funny as that was, watching Glenn make a fool of himself isn't the reason we came here. We wanted to know if you were going to attend the dinner tonight."

"It's not mandatory, and if you don't feel up to it you don't have to come. Or stay the whole time. It's all up to you." Deanna adds. She sounds so sincere, it's almost soothing.

"I want to go." I say, hopefully conveying how eager I am as I nod. "I'll admit, the thought kind of freaks me out, but I'm excited. I want to try being here, like a normal person."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, Alyssa." Deanna smiles her all-knowing smile. _I'm getting used to it. I think I would like it more if she didn't smile the whole damn time, though._ "I'll see you then."

* * *

A few hours later I'm entering Deanna's house, with Carol, Carl, mom, and Rick carrying Judith. What better way to make other townspeople like you? Babies. Always works. Another way? Baking food. Carol's made a whole tray-ful of chocolate chip cookies, and I must say, I'm very excited to try them out. The others will be trickling in when they're free of their jobs, sans Daryl. He thought the idea was just plain old stupid and didn't want to bother.

I survey the area, noting how many people were here already. It's a decent amount. All adults, drinking from blue and green plastic cups. There's beer on the table, a lot of beer, and some crackers set out as well. There's a large bowl full of red liquid on another table towards the library area. _Punch, maybe_?

"Oh my." Deanna comes up to us, a clear glass of amber liquid in her hand. "Welcome!"

"Hi!" Carol smiles to her. I almost grimace in response. _That smile was so fake. And that cheery voice? Really?_

"Oh, it's so good to see you." Deanna goes up to us. "Hi, Carl. Alyssa." She pulls past us and makes her way to the adults. "Thank you for coming."

Rick shifts Judith from one arm to another. His poor arms must be so tired from holding her for so long. Deanna looks at Judith, smiling. "You know, I didn't get a chance to interview this one. I envy her."

"Why?" Rick asks.

"She'll get to see what this place will become."

She ushers us farther into the room. "Come, come on in."

We follow her a few steps further before branching off in our own areas. Rick follows Deanna to her kitchen area, and Carol moves to set the cookies down beside the punch bowl. Mom stands with me and Carl, and I pray that Sam actually comes tonight. It'd be easier to talk to him than Ron and Mikey.

"You two go mingle." Mom tells us, a hand on my shoulder and a hand on Carls'.

"But there's no other kids here." I complain. "And I am _not_ talking to Aiden or whatever."

"The other kids will be here soon. Jessie wouldn't miss something like this." Mom tells me. Her hands lightly shove us toward the library area. "Why don't you two have some punch?"

"I'm guessing that a demand instead of a request." Carl says. She pushes us a little further in.

"Damn right." She laughs a little. "Now _go_."

So the two of us walk over to the punch bowl, each pouring ourselves a little into the plastic solo cups. I get blue, Carl gets green.

"It's like I'm back at school, at some shitty dance." I mutter into my cup. Carl eyes me as he takes a sip of his own.

"Huh?" He says, a way of telling me to go on.

"At school," I start, lowering my cup from my lips. I cross my arms, lightly hugging myself as I say, "I was always energetic. A go-getter when it came to schoolwork. I tried in my classes, but I only had one friend, and that was Sophia. Her dad wouldn't let her go to any of the schools dances, so I was alone half the time. I didn't really get along well with other students, so I would hang around the snack table and gorge myself on cookies and juice."

"At least you went to some." Carl swirls the punch in his cup, his eyes following the swirls. "I didn't really go to any. The Halloween ones, sure, but only so I could see the other costumes."

"Did you have friends?"

"A couple, yeah, but I just didn't do well in crowds. It wasn't my thing."

"I get it." I nod, taking another sip. My eyes go to the door as it opens, watching as Jessie, Ron, their Sam, and some other guy stroll in. Ron scans the room, his eyes quickly finding us, and waves. He says something to his mom before coming over to us.

"Hey, guys!" He greets.

"Hey, Ron." Carl says back.

"Hi." I awkwardly wave with my free hand.

I watch as Ron's eyes go wide. "She speaks! Congrats, Alyssa. I knew it wouldn't take long for you to get used to Alexandria."

 _Oh, Ron. You don't know me at all, so don't assume things._

I just smile and shrug. "Guess it's not too bad here, after all."

* * *

It doesn't take long before Mikey shows up, his father in tow. And the rest of the group shows up. I think I breathe a little easier, knowing we're all together here. _Well, besides Daryl. I don't think he's even showered here, yet. He should._ But then again, seeing Daryl at a dinner party would be a sight.

The hours slowly pass, and the light outside the windows diminishes to black. The four of us begin to play Go Fish with a pack of cards that Mikey brought with him.

I notice the change in Carl as we play the game. He's much more at ease with the others. I notice how tense I am. Not that playing cards was a bad thing, but I'm still getting used to the new, "normal," in Alexandria.

The card numbers begin to blur in my brain during the game, and once the round is over my eyes search the room. Most of our group is by the couches, sipping on booze and having a good time. And by the group, I notice a person I honestly didn't expect to make it to the dinner party. _Sam_. Well, teenager Sam.

He brings a green cup to his lips, his eyes finding my own as I watch. I can just _feel_ his ever-present smirk behind the plastic. His free fingers by his side wave to me. I wave back. Once he downs the cup, he sets it on a coffee table, and he strolls out the back door, to the porch. _Should I follow?_

"Alyssa?" Carl's voice rings in my ears. "Did you hear a word I said?"

"What?" I ask, shaking my head. "Sorry, I got distracted."

"Tell me about it." He grins to me. _Did he notice Sam?_ "I asked for your cards. We're gonna shuffle the deck and start a new round."

"Oh, here." I hand them over chastely. "Actually, you three go on without me. I'm gonna catch some air."

"You sure? Or are you just running away from my amazing three wins in a row?" Mikey laughs to me.

I fake-frown at him. "You cheated last time and you know it!"

"Suuure I did, Alyssa."

I take a couple steps away from the group. "Gimme five minutes, and I'll be right back."

"Okay." Carls hand goes to mine, pulling me in for a quick peck on the lips before I leave. I grin to him and go through the back door.

It's darker than I thought it would be, but I still make my way over to Sam pretty well.

"Didn't think you'd show." I say bluntly, leaning on the half-wall of wood in front of me. My hands clasp together, holding on loosely.

"And leave the entertainment to Ron? Nah, I couldn't do that to you." He chuckles. I hear the swift sound of a blade being opened.

"You brought a knife?" I ask. He goes beside me, holding out a butterfly knife in front of me as he leans on his side.

"You didn't?"

I shake my head as his hand twirls a little bit, flipping the blade open and closed. "My knife is currently in the armory. They took it when we came in."

"That sucks." He flips it closed, offering it to me. I take it and open the tip with one hand, swinging it open with the other. I'm nearly entranced by the movement.

"Yeah, it does." I experimentally swing it once, to close it. "I feel naked without the damn thing."

"I get it." He nods. "I always have one on me, even if it's small. When I first came here, I always had a steak knife hidden. Not that I've ever used it inside the walls, but I slept better at night with it."

I nod to him. "I feel the exact same way." I quickly open and close the knife again, spinning it a little in the process. _This is pretty damn fun_. The door opens behind us, the light from inside illuminating a stretch over me and Sam.

"Feel the exact same way about what?" A voice says behind me, defensive. _Carl_.

"About knives." Sam quickly offers. I turn and show Carl the butterfly knife in my hands. His blue eyes burn into my own. _Oh my. He's angry_.

"I can't sleep without one. I don't feel safe." I add, hoping he understands.

"And neither can I. That's it." Sam finishes, his hands up in surrender. I flick the blade closed and hand it back to him.

"That's all we talked about, Carl." I say. His gaze flies from mine to Sam's, and I watch as the anger softens. He nods to me.

"Me too." He takes a step forward, going to my side, and snakes his hand around my waist protectively. I lean in to his touch, silently showing him he has _nothing_ to worry about.

"I had one under our pillows last night." I tell him, pressing a quick kiss to his neck. "I felt like I could sleep easy with it."

"I have so many around the house that Aaron and Eric don't know about." Sam says. He offers the butterfly knife to Carl's free hand. After a moment, Carl nods and takes it, flicking it open and closed. _The damn thing is so mesmerizing_.

"You live with them?" Carl asks. _Oh, he's finally making conversation without my help. Yay._

"Yeah. They're the ones that found me outside. Eric was the one who wanted to take me in, and Aaron was quick to agree. They makes things a lot easier for me here. Not a lot of people talk to them, y'know."

"Why?" Carl asks.

"Because, even though it's the end of the world, people are still off-put by the fact that they're gay."

"That's idiotic." I nearly growl out. "They're kind-hearted and caring, and they risk their lives, and people judge them because they're _gay_?!"

Sam gives a grim nod. "Yeah. When they get side-eyed I get the urge to punch something."

"I would, too." Carl agrees.

"There's a reason Enid hasn't told anyone about herself. She's an outsider; they alienate her enough."

"That must suck." I frown. _Poor things_.

"Wait, Enid's..." Carl starts, his eyes wide.

"I told you you weren't her type." I shrug in his grasp. "I wasn't lying."

"But-"

"Ron doesn't know, and we intend to keep it that way." Sam stares at Carl. Carl gulps, but gives a nod to the silent threat/request.

Sam yawns, stretching his arms above his head. "Well, I don't know about you two, but it's getting pretty late. I'm heading home."

Carl offers the butterfly knife back to Sam as he walks past us. He takes it back graciously. "Night, you two." He opens the door, the light from inside momentarily blinding me. He winks back to us before closing the door.

"Well," I start, leaning into Carls' form, "that went as expected."

"Could've been worse." He looks down to me, and his hands hold my waist tightly.

"Yeah, it could have." I nod. " _I_ was expecting worse."

Carl gives a laugh. "Me too."

* * *

By the time the group decides to make it back to our houses, the clock in our living room reads 11:35. _Damn, busy night_.

I go to head up the stairs after Carl, but Carol pulls me aside.

"What?" I grumble. She and I make our way to the kitchen. I cross my arms across my chest. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to give you this." She pulls something out of her back pocket, handing it to me. _My knife!_

I gasp, taking it from her vigorously. I look at the blade, finding tiny speck of blood still stuck. "How did you-"

"Don't ask." She shakes her head, giving a small chuckle. "But I though you should have it. To make up for yesterday."

My eyes look to hers. They're hopeful. _An apology_.

"Truce?" Carol holds her hand out to me. I smile at her, sheathing the blade and shaking her hand.

"Truce."

"Now go, get to bed." She tells me, her hands twisting me around so I face the stairs.

"Good night, Carol." I say, jogging up the stairs.

"Night, Alyssa."

I pull into what I'm assuming is my bedroom (and maybe it's Carls', too?) and quickly toss on some shorts and a tank top. I switch the knife under my pillow, putting mine underneath and setting the steak knife on the nightstand to the right. The side where Carl slept last night. Curiosity peaks in my head. _I wonder if the condoms are still in here..?_ I open the drawer and sure enough, the box is on its side. I push the drawer shut fast, a blush rising on my cheeks faster than I thought possible.

I shut the light off and hop onto my side of the bed, waiting in the darkness to see if Carl would join me again. Sure enough, the door opens and he comes in.

I sit up straight when he sits down beside me, and I grin as I pull out my knife.

"Look at what Carol gave me!" I hold it out to him.

"Nice." He says, sounding a little standoffish. His eyes glaze over the blade, but they aren't as bright as I'd hoped they'd be.

"You're not excited?" I say, my voice level dropping in excitement. My hand lowers the blade, and I shove it back under my pillow. I'm much quieter as I say, "I thought you'd be as happy as me."

"Oh, trust me, I feel the exact same way." Carl repeats my words from earlier, each dripping with jealousy. It hurts to hear.

"Carl, we were talking about _knives_." I groan.

"I don't care." He says. "You can see why I'd get angry about that, right?" I shrug in response. _Wrong move._

"I find my girlfriend talking with some guy she knows I don't like, saying about how she feels the way he does?" He continues, his voice low but hostile. "Especially when I don't get the whole conversation? And those words could mean a million different things?"

"Carl-" I start, but I don't finish. His lips are on mine in an instant. The kiss is hard and possessive, his tongue finding its way in my mouth and I don't fight back for control. His arms snake their way around my waist, pulling me close and twisting me underneath him. His legs are in between mine as I fall back on the bed. He pulls away, leaving me breathless and wanting more.

"You're mine." Carl says, his eyes dark as he looks at me. " _Mine_."

"I'm yours." I tell him. He kisses a line from my lips down to my chin, onto my neck, and right under my earlobe. I moan loudly as his teeth gently bite on the skin. My hand goes to my mouth, trying to cover the noise up as he does it again and again, only stopping to kiss and lick the patch of skin. His fingers roam the skin just underneath the hem of my shirt, each movement making my skin feel ablaze with his touch.

"Carl." I moan again. He continues his onslaught on my neck, and my hips buck upward without my brain thinking. His follow mine, pressing back down onto me. "Oh, _fuck_."

One hand tangles in his hair, the other going to his back to pull him closer.

His breath catches in his throat, coming out like a growl as I grind into him again. "Mine."

 _Damn, I should get him mad more often._

* * *

 _A/N: Hey guys! I just thought we should get right into the chapter, so I didn't put this on top. Sorry for the long wait; my life has been messy the past few months. I graduated high school, we're doing some renovations in my home, and (the largest reason,) my grandmother passed away. I couldn't really bring myself to do anything creative for a good while after she passed, but I'm slowly getting into the swing again. Hopefully this makes up for the wake._

 _And just one quick thing: The feedback I received from having a lesbian Enid was... mostly good? The first response I got, though, was how it made a person feel uncomfortable. My question to you is: why is it uncomfortable? She's still her own character. I'm not changing her storyline too much (besides the fact that her and Carl are together in the tv show, but that's OBVIOUSLY not happening here,) and it's not like she's going to throw up rainbows whenever she talks. She's still our badass Enid, just a gay badass instead._

 _Thanks for reading, everyone!_


	15. Chapter 15: Peace and War

_A/N: Hey everyone! I am **so** sorry for being MIA for so long. Just know that it's never my intention when I take over a month (this time it was more like two ugh,) to write a chapter. Life gets busy, sadly. However, I am very happy to announce that this is the second to last chapter before we FINALLY get to season six! It's my **favorite** season, so I'm really excited! I have so much planned for it, and I just **can't wait** to start. _

_And a quick note, I'm going to continue using Not How We Were for season six. When we get to season seven I'll start a new one. That's all; on with the chapter!_

* * *

I wake up alone the next morning. My hand searches the other side of the bed, my eyes still closed as I scrunch the covers. _Nothing_.

I suppress a sigh. _Of course he left_. I force myself to sit up and stretch my arms.

The clock on the nightstand reads 8:45. _Where did he go? Did he leave me just to go to class? That doesn't even start until 11:30!_

A small white piece of paper rests on the nightstand in front of the clock, folded neatly in half. I grab it, the edges crinkling as I pull it open.

 _"Angel, I went over to Ron and Sam's house to play some video games again. I would have woken you up, but you looked like you could use a few more hours. I'll see you in class.  
_

 _By the way, I'm sorry for being a dick last night. It won't happen again. However, I am NOT sorry for leaving hickies on your neck ;)  
_

 _See you soon! Carl"_

Hickies? _Oh, he did_ _ **not!**_ I head to the bathroom mirror, pulling my hair aside from my neck. Sure enough, a small patch of angry red marks shine on my pale skin. "Oh, no." I groan. "How the hell am I supposed to cover these up?"

I shake the thought out of my head and get dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee. I also try and not notice the soreness in my thighs, or the little marks on the inside of them. _I really_ _ **should**_ _get him mad more often._ The thought immediately brings a blush to my cheeks. Thankfully, a slight banging sound fills my ears and grabs my attention, and I crinkle my nose in confusion. _What the hell?_

I follow the noise down the hall, to the bedroom on the left. The one that I found mom and Rick in yesterday. My hand gives a quick knock, for curtesy's sake, and I open the door.

My eyes follow mom as her hands bring her katana against the wall, resting on two nails she hammered in.

"Woah..." I breathe. "You sure you wanna do that?"

She looks over to me, conflicting emotions passing through her face. "I... I don't know."

"I do." She presses. "I really do, but..." Mom shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

"You don't think you should."

"Exactly."

I go over to her, grabbing the katana from where it rests against the wall. My short stature almost stops me from grabbing it, but with effort I manage to. Slowly, I pull the blade out of its sheath, showing off the hidden shine, and set it back on the wall. This time, it's not completely covered and hidden, just like the world outside isn't completely missing behind these walls. She can't forget it, but she can adapt.

"How about that?" I ask. My head goes to rest on her shoulder as we stand, and her arm goes around mine in response.

"Yeah, that's good." She nods.

We stand in silence, savoring the company. I don't want to move from her, but I do and we begin to walk down the hall and to the stairs.

"So, what keeps you home so late in the morning?" I ask. "Aren't you, like, super important now? Constable and everything?"

"Well, yes, but we just kind of walk around town and look tough. So I thought I could take a couple minutes to myself."

"I see." I nod, hopping down the stairs.

"Like you're one to talk. You've slept in _two days_ in a row!" She playfully shoves my shoulder with hers.

"Yeah, but at least I'm sleeping." I shrug.

"Sure, _sleeping_." Mom throws air quotes around the word. "That's what you and Carl do at night."

"It is!" My checks burn in embarrassment. "Just because we sleep in the same bed doesn't mean we screw every five seconds."

"Then how'd you get _those_?" She jerks her neck down to mine, her eyes gleaming in victory.

My hand clasps over the marks. "We didn't... You know..."

"Have sex?" She offers.

"Yeah, we didn't… We just kissed! A lot." I say. And then I think of the little marks on my thighs. _Yup, just kissing. Totally._

"Mmhmm." She rolls her eyes playfully.

"Mooom!" I groan. _She won't budge._

"Hey, I don't care if you guys do." She holds her hands up in surrender. "So long as it's all safe. I know you have the condoms."

"We didn't do anything that required condoms last night." I give her that much. No need to get into extensive detail. _I'm not talking about his fingers, his tongue, him biting my neck as his hips push against mine..._

 _Nope! Not going there, Alyssa. Stop that right now!_

Mom raises an eyebrow. _Am I blushing? I'm totally blushing_. "I thought you just kissed?"

"Kissing doesn't require condoms, does it?" I cross my arms and point my chin up at her. "Also, I am _so not_ getting into this conversation with you."

She chuckles and holds her hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll stop pushing. But you _do_ have condoms. Use 'em wisely." She ends with a wink, and I internally scream.

"Were you the one that put them in the room?!"

"Nah, that would be Maggie. She and Glenn were the ones who found you two curled up together."

"Oh my god." I bring a hand to my face, sighing into it.

"Speaking of, Glenn, Tara, and Noah are heading off on a legitimate supply run today. Wanna say goodbye before they head off?"

"Yeah." I nod eagerly. _Finally, they get to use their full potential on a run. Hopefully Aiden will let them be._ _  
_

"They should be by the garage near the pantry. I should head up with Rick and go back on constable duty." I open the door for mom and let her head out on the porch first. "See you at lunchtime?"

"Of course." I plant a kiss on her check before taking a left past the yard. "Love you."

"Love you too." She goes straight at the porch, heading past the gazebo to the other side. I quickly follow the path to the garage, where a large van is being filled with empty boxes for supplies.

Deanna and her husband stand close to the door, watching as Aiden helps Glenn fill up the back of the van. Maggie stands on the other side, handing Noah, Eugene, and Tara each a gun. _Woah, Eugene too? He must be doing this against his will._

"Hey kiddo." Glenn walks over to me, ruffling my hair with his free hand.

"Hey!" I protest. "I just brushed this. Ugh, you messed it up."

"That was the point." He grins down to me. "What're you doing here?"

"I just wanted to say good luck on the run. And to give you the mandatory good-bye hug, like normal."

"Of course, how could I forget?"

My arms go around his middle, and his nearly encircle my whole form. "Stay safe out there, okay?" I whisper to him.

"I always do." He replies, letting go of me.

"C'mon, everyone! Daylight's burnin'!" Aiden yells out to us. His fist bangs on the outside of the truck before hopping in the driver's seat.

"See you soon." Maggie tells Glenn, giving him a sweet kiss goodbye before he hops into the back with the rest of our guys. She takes a step to the side of me.

"They'll be back before ya know it." Maggie tells me. The van engine revvs up, and horrible electro music blasts from inside.

"I know." I say easily. _It's just a run. It's not like they haven't done this before. It'll be fine._ "They'll be okay. Glenn'll be okay."

"Exactly."

* * *

I take a light stroll around Alexandria, watching everyone go about their normal lives. As I walk past the Anderson household, I almost head inside to see the other guys. But I don't. I've had enough of them last night. Jessie's in the garage, picking up pieces of scrap metal that litter the ground. I awkwardly wave to her as I pass by. She smiles back and gives a strong one in return.

My brain shuts off as I walk around, and I somehow make it to the gazebo in the middle of town, on the edge of the pond. Enid's sitting on the bench, her legs kicked up and holding her sketchbook in place.

"Hey!" I call out and wave to her.

She gives a small wave with her pencil in response. Her facial features show absolutely no interest in me, which almost makes me laugh. _At least she tolerates me._

I jog over to her. "You didn't make it to the party last night. I was hoping you'd make an appearance."

She gives a half-hearted shake before steadying her hand and putting the pencil to the paper. "Nah, I don't do crowds much. Besides, Ron was there."

"Yes, he was." She moves her feet a bit closer to herself, allowing me space to sit beside her. I take the gesture kindly.

"What'cha drawing?" I ask. Making small talk with her is difficult because she hardly ever chats, but it's not impossible.

"Just doodling." She answers, her tone nearly monotonous. I think I'm starting like it.

"Doodling what? That's not a real answer." I press. "People? Nature? Naked statues?"

She cracks a small grin. "I can't draw a tree for shit, and I haven't seen the Statue of David lately, so take a guess."

"Ah, people." I nod. "Anyone I know?"

"Maybe." A small blush rises to her cheeks. "It's actually from a movie I used to watch as a kid. I started to forget what she looks like, so I'm trying to keep the memory alive."

"Can I see it?" I ask gingerly.

After a pause, she nods and takes her feet off the bench. She scoots over to me and twists the sketch pad into my line of vision.

"Woah..." I beam in awe. "How did you learn to draw like this?"

There's so much detail in the drawing; no colors, just a pencil was used, but there's definition everywhere. The shading points the chin upward with an elegance, and the hair is twisted into a tight bun. There's a texture in the poofy dress that the character wears, and the shoes underneath shine brightly. Some lines are thick, some thin, and there's blots of granite to give each spot differing shades. And to top it off, there's a small little mouse in the bottom right wearing a loose shirt.

"My parents had me take art classes when I was a kid. And in middle school, I just kept working at it. Painting was a favorite of mine, but it's not like I can just grab an easel and oil paints." She explains. It's more of a ramble than anything, like she's embarrassed about the hobby.

"It's beautiful." I say, amazed. "Cinderella?"

She gives a small nod. "Yeah. She used to be my favorite Disney princess as a kid."

My thumb lightly flicks at the edge of the page. "May I..?"

"Go for it." She shrugs.

I quickly flip through a couple pages. Some are of real people in camp that I recognize. Some of Olivia, Deanna, and Jessie, and one of both Ron and his little brother Sam. And there are some fictional characters; Mulan, Violet from the Incredibles, Hermione, Alladin and the genie, and Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Each is extremely detailed and elegant, and my jaw drops just a little lower when I flip the page each time.

There's two people that I don't recognize towards the beginning of the book. They're older people, a man and a woman. The man has his hand gently placed on the woman's waist, and they are both waving. The grins are wide and bright. _Her parents, maybe?_

"When Ron found out I could draw, he asked if I could draw the two of them together." Enid says, and that brings me back to reality. _Sam and Ron, yeah._

"None of the others asked?" I look back to her.

"No. I just draw them. Mostly when I'm bored."

"That's so cool." I grin. I close the pad shut and hand it back to her, and she takes it happily.

"It's really nothing." She shrugs and sets her pencil in the spiral that holds the pages together. "I just get bored a lot, so I have free time on my hands."

"I see." I say with a nod. Hoping to continue the conversation, I add, "I used to sing a lot. For the group. Maggie had a sister, Beth, and she and I would duet at night."

Enid nods. "Were you two close?"

I give a sad smile. Silently I pull my knees up to my chest and tighten my arms around them. "She was my first real friend in their group. I was an outsider."

"You weren't with them at the beginning?"

I shake my head. "No, mom and I earned our keep with Team Family. They hated us at first. But Beth? Beth was always kind. She and I shared a room for almost a year at our camp before..."

I don't finish my sentence. I'm sure Enid gets the idea. _God, I miss her._

I slump a little in my seat, resting my chin on my knees.

"I'm sorry." Enid says. It sounds earnest.

"She didn't suffer." I add solemnly. "Single shot, through the head. Probably didn't even feel a thing."

"It's better that way." She tells me. "My parents... They died, early on."

I look up to her quietly. _Don't stop. I wanna hear it_. My eyes search her features. Her shoulders visibly slump, but she remains the same. She's been dealing with this for a while.

"Our car broke down. They were trying to fix it. They never did." That's all she tells me. But that's all I need to know.

"I'm sorry." I tell her. She doesn't seem to be the type that looks for a hug when she's sad, so I keep my distance.

Suddenly, she stands from her spot on the bench. My eyes glaze over her hands, how they tighten around her sketch book and pencil. Her knuckles are nearly white from her grip.

"I'm gonna go." She tells me. I nod. "Over the wall. Don't follow me."

"I won't." I tell her. She needs her space. I understand. "See you later?"

"Eventually." She responds. And she runs off. I don't watch as she leaves. She deserves her space. I'm almost certain that she doesn't talk to most people about her past. It's probably a bit of a shock for her. My eyes go to the pond, watching silently as the water ripples and moves with the calm breeze until I don't hear her footsteps anymore. Then I stand, turn, and go back to wandering around Alexandria.

* * *

I don't make it to classes at 11:30. In fact, no one does. There isn't any.

Just as I begin to trek back to the house, the van that Glenn and the other runners take flies through the gates, Eugene at the wheel. _Oh my_.

The second it stops they pull the back open and Glenn hops out, covered in blood. "HELP! I NEED HELP!"

I immediately run over to him and Eugene pulls out of the front seat. "What happened?!"

Tara and Nicholas are unconscious in the back, though Tara looks _much worse_. There's a half-assed bandage made from a ripped up shirt wrapped around her head, blood already seeping through one side of it. On Nicholas, there's some blood trailing down his face, and it looks like he was punched. His nose seems broken.

"The mission was both a success and a failure." Eugene quickly explains. He jerkily grabs Tara and slings her over his shoulder. "We gathered all necessary equipment as planned, but we didn't account for the amount of walkers in the area, or the immediate betrayal on the Alexandrian side. There were some casualties."

"Casualties?" My blood boils at the word, "betrayal," but that's not important right now. _Who did we lose?_

A small crowd begins to form around us, Deanna leading the pack.

"Aiden and Noah... They didn't make it." Glenn huffs out as he pulls on Nicholas' legs, trying to get him to the edge. I can feel how upset he is. It's almost tangible. A small gasp sounds behind me, and the heartbreak is immediate. _Deanna._

I turn to her, looking at the shock and pain across her face as she brings a hand over her mouth. "Aiden..?" Small tears threaten to fall from her eyes. "He's..?"

She can't bear to say the words. But the despair on Glenn's face is enough to bring her worst fear to life. "Oh, no." She groans out, the tears freely falling. She bends forward, her hands covering her face as she repeats the words. "Oh, no. Not my son! No!"

"I'm sorry." Glenn chokes. He brings a hand to her shoulder and she immediately jerks back. "I'm so, _so_ sorry."

 _What the_ _ **fuck**_ _happened out there?_ Glenn has _never_ been on a run that ended in two deaths and two people knocked out. He's efficient, smart, understands _all_ the potential problems and coordinates around them. So, _who fucked up_ and _how?_

"I don't mean to interrupt your grieving process, Deanna, but my friend here and Nicholas are in dire need of medical intervention. We need help getting to the infirmary." Eugene cuts in. I note how jittery he sounds as he readjusts Tara on his shoulder.

Deanna wipes away her tears, trying to get ahold of herself, before Eric steps out of the crowd. "I'll take you there." He shuffles over to Deanna, quietly whispering something in her ear, before she nods and goes back inside her house. "C'mon." He gestures to Eugene and Glenn, both with Tara and Nicholas slung over their shoulders.

 _Jesus Christ, what happened out there?_

The news of Aiden and Noah dying spreads like wildfire quickly around Alexandria. All classes (aka the kid class and teen class,) are canceled for the next few days so we can all, "grieve appropriately," and spend time with our family. Runs are to stop until next week, when a new leader is chosen and a new person volunteers for the position that Noah had.

It's a lot to take in, and it all happens really fast. By nightfall, all the adults come back from their respective jobs. Dinner is quiet and solemn without Tara and Noah. Glenn and Eugene are especially silent. I don't think I've ever seen them this sad. Glenn is always so cheerful most of the time; it hurts to see him moping over spaghetti and meatballs.

After dinner we all head to bed, though Carol stays up to make the Monroe's a casserole. It's a nice gesture, but I don't think they want anything to do with us right now. If anything, they probably want to crucify us. I don't voice that out loud, though, and head up to bed instead.

Carl's already there, lying under the sheets. It's the first time I've seen him all day, besides dinner with the group.

"Hey." I greet lazily.

"Hey." He responds.

Quickly I grab a t-shirt and shorts from the drawers and change in the bathroom before hopping into bed beside him. His arms go around me tightly as I snuggle into his side, and my head finds its way into the crook of his neck. Silently he leans forward, past my shoulder, to get to the lamp behind me and he shuts off the light.

"I missed you today." I tell him. "Were you busy?"

He pulls the sheets up over us as he answers, "Kinda sorta. Ron and Mikey are hardcore gamers, in case you were wondering."

"How were they?" I make small talk. My arm goes around his middle and I shimmy a bit, trying to get comfy.

"They were fine. I had the honor of playing Halo with them for a couple hours." He whispers into my hair. His hand gently rubs up and down my arm, and I take comfort in the touch.

"Fun." I respond. "I hung out with Enid for a bit, before... everything happened."

"How was she?"

"Fine." I shrug in his embrace. "Enid-like. Quiet."

"That's good." Carl says softly. "How are _you_?"

I shrug again, though a swift wave of sadness washes over me. "I'm fine, I guess. I didn't really know Noah all that much, but he was a good guy. And I'm worried about Tara. I hope she pulls through."

"Agreed." I can feel him nod above my head.

My mind thinks of earlier, when the van pulled in and I could hear Glenn screaming. "When Deanna found out," I start, holding Carl closer to me, "about Aiden... It was like her whole world collapsed. She was so sad. Her face just _dropped_ from curiosity to complete heartbreak. And all I thought about was how she loved him so much. She lived with him, cared for him his whole life, couldn't imagine being without him for even a second..."

My eyes gleam up to Carls', trapping them in an intense gaze. "Don't ever leave me. Ever." I say. "I don't think I can go through what she did."

Softly, he brings his lips to mine, giving a gentle and reassuring kiss. I press back harder, trying to convey just how much I love him, and how much it would hurt if I lost him. _I think I would die, too._

He breaks the kiss, his lips gliding along mine as he slowly tells me, "Never."

"Promise me." I say.

"Promise." He kisses my forehead before pulling me close, and with that, my eyelids flutter shut and I fall into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Morning comes too quickly. I can feel the sun shining through the window before I even open my eyes, and all I feel is frustration. I don't feel relaxed in the slightest. I barely slept a wink.

My hands ball into fists and I furiously rub at my eyes, softly whining at the sunlight streaming through the blinds.

"You seem chipper." Carl mumbles against my neck. Of course he got some sleep. I'm starting to think he could nap through anything. Tornado, thunderstorm, alien invasion. _Lucky bastard_.

"Just peachy." I grumble in response.

"What time is it?" He asks. I twist my head over to look at the clock.

"I'm-not-moving-my-ass-o'clock." I answer. "Also known as 6:45."

"Of course it is." He groans lightly. "Why are you up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep." I shrug in his grasp. His arms, which somehow remained around me in our sleep, tighten around my middle.

"No," he demands, "you're not moving. Stop that." He presses a gentle kiss to my neck in hopes of stopping my shrug. And he does. Not like I have the energy to do much else right now.

My eyes go up to his face as I feel his fingers brush my hair away from my neck. "What?" I ask. His finger gently trails along my skin, etching something out.

"They're still... very..." _Oh, the hickies_.

"Prominent?" I offer. Carl nods at the word choice. I chuckle lightly. "You did a number on me. My thighs aren't that bad, though."

"There are marks?"

" _Oh, yeah_." I laugh. My hands grab at the blanket and quickly shoves it away from my legs. Now freed, I pull up the bottom of my shorts on one leg, revealing soft little purple bite marks on the inside. "They're not as bad as yesterday, and they weren't bad to begin with, but they are _definitely_ there, cowboy."

Carl's cheeks tinge pink at the remark. "Sorry. Guess I was a little... feisty."

"Oh, a _little_?" I challenge, raising an eyebrow.

"A lotta feisty." He admits defeat with a chuckle.

"Damn right you were." I readjust the shorts and set them back properly as I continue, "But don't be sorry. I liked it."

 _And, now it's my turn to blush_.

His hand slowly makes its way down my side, down my leg, and grasps at the bottom of my shorts. "This side like that, too?"

"A little bit." I nonchalantly answer as his hand pulls the shorts up. My skin isn't too badly marked, but Carl still takes the time to trail his fingers feather-like around each little mark. He glides around my soft skin, each spot alight with the feel of electricity under his touch. He swirls his fingers around, slowly inching their way closer and closer to where I _really_ want him. Teasing me. Quietly, I close my eyes and focus on breathing normally. If I didn't, it would turn quick and heavy by the millisecond.

"You keep teasing me like this, you better be adding more." I warn with a grin.

Carl smirks down to me, though after a moment his face becomes somber. He drops the edge of my shorts, pulling away from me and standing up. "Sadly, not today, angel. Everyone's on their guard. Even the Alexandrians."

I sit up and stretch my arms out above my head, relishing in the few _POPS_ that sound from my back. "Yeah, I know." My arms go around my knees, and I think for a moment. "Do you think that they believe our people killed Aiden? I mean, we heard from Glenn and Eugene that they tried to save him, but Nicholas wanted to _leave_ Aiden behind. Maybe Nicholas is telling a different story."

"I don't know." Carl shrugs. He grabs some clothes from the dresser and hops into the bathroom to change, leaving the door ajar for his voice to travel. "Maybe. Some of them want us out. Think about it; what better way to get our group exiled than to just… make us the bad guys of a bad run?"

I follow suit and grab some new jeans and a t-shirt to change in. When Carl gets out of the room, I get in. "It's pretty full-proof, except for the part where he needs to convince Deanna. She's grieving, but she's smart enough to see bullshit." _At least, I hope so._

"True, very true." Carl trails off, his mind wandering elsewhere.

"You okay?" I step out of the room and walk over to him by the window. The shades are completely open, letting in the harsh sunlight. _Ouch. Warn a girl first, will ya?_

"Yeah." He answers. Then he points to the bottom of the wall. "Just noticed her climbing up."

My eyes trail over to the bottom of the wall, where Enid is. As she hoists herself up, she puts down one of her tiny metal bars through the loops on the wall, creating a makeshift ladder like she always does.

"I think she likes being outside as much as I do." I admit. "Probably more. She went out yesterday, too."

"Did she?"

"Yeah, after talking to me." I answer. Then I pull away from the window and head to the edge of the bed, grabbing my boots from the ground. I shove them on my feet as I add, "Follow her, if you want. She knows you do."

Carl looks over to me. "She does?"

I laugh as I fix my laces up. "Yup. Sorry, Carl. You are many things, but quiet is not one of them. You manage to stomp on the crunchiest grass possible every time you're in the forest."

"I take offense to that."

"Feel free to." I chuckle and walk over to him. "But seriously, go follow her if you want to." He gives a curt nod in agreement. "Maybe she'll talk to you, too. I think she likes us."

"Yeah?" He motions for me to go on before sitting on the bed and pulling his own boots on.

"I like to think so, at least." I shrug. "She doesn't really talk to anyone here, unless they're from outside. She doesn't trust 'em. Which I get; I don't trust them much, either."

"You don't?" Carl asks, curious.

"Not really. They're nice, sure, but think about it. If the walls fell right now, who would be alive tomorrow? Who would be able to fight off a hoard?"

It doesn't take long for him to answer. "Our group. Maybe a few of them."

"Exactly. I trust that Enid would get out alive. Sam, too. But Ron? Mikey? I don't know."

He nods quietly. "I want them to. They're good people. They can learn."

"I hope so." I agree.

He rises from the edge of the bed and silently we head down the stairs together. Neither of us want to wake anyone in the house up. I'm tempted to go down the hall and sneak a peep into the last room, just to see if mom and Rick are sleeping in the same bed together. _They might be. They already use the same shower. They both have their clothes in there._ I inwardly gasp. _What if they're together-together? And they just aren't telling us? Oh, I would be so happy for them!_

I'm pulled out of my thoughts as we make it to the door and Carl says, "See you at lunch?"

"As always, cowboy." I grin to him and give him a quick peck before he turns to the wall and starts jogging over. I turn the other way, quietly strolling down the street.

With a quick glance around town, it looks like no one else is awake. Some other families may be having breakfast, but it doesn't look like it from the outside of the houses. For once, it's peaceful. I drink it in, glad for the silence that looms over the town. Looking back, I think that's why I hated Alexandria at first. The noise. Multiple people talking, laughing, cackling loudly with not a worry in the world. Some play music inside their homes on stereos, and I can hear the pulsating beat from outside. Don't these people realize that _sound_ attracts the dead ones?

Either way, this quiet, gentle morning is definitely soothing. _Maybe waking up so early wasn't such a bad thing._

"Hey, ST!"

 _Or maybe not_ , I think with an inward chuckle.

I twist my head to the left, and I see Sam running out the door of a large pale blue house.

"Be back before dinner!" Is quickly shouted behind him. The soft voice is vaguely familiar.

He quickly stops and yells back, "Sure thing, Eric."

"I mean it!" Eric calls out to him, trying to be stern as he pops his head out the door. "'Before dinner' doesn't mean during or after, it means _before_!"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Sam huffs out quickly. "See ya later, bye!" Is added in one breath.

"Morning, Sammy." I say. The two of us begin walking down the street side by side, no destination in mind.

He wrinkles his nose in disgust at the nickname. "Don't call me that."

"What's wrong, Sammy?" I tease lightly. "Don't like the name, Sammy?"

His response is a light lunch to my shoulder. "It makes me sound like I'm five. And I'm not." He puffs his chest out comically and deepens his voice. "I'm a man."

"Whatever you say, kiddo." I respond, ruffling his already shaggy hair.

"Hey! Knock it off!" He shoves my hand away and begins to try and fix the mess I made. "You know how long it takes to make this look? How much _product_ I use in the morning?!"

I roll my eyes teasingly at him. "Oh no, your hair. I'm sooo sorry." I drawl. And I can't stop the chuckle that escapes afterword.

He sticks his tongue out at me. "Rude."

I shrug. "What can I say? It's easy being evil. Next thing you know I'll start sprouting devil horns."

The sarcastic chatter dims down as we pass by the Monroe house. Through the window of the library I catch a look at Deanna wiping away tears with a messy tissue. Her eyes, normally bright, are red and puffy.

"By the way, my condolences." Sam says, his voice soft and serious. "I heard you guys lost Noah yesterday. He was a good guy."

I nod quietly. "Thank you. If I'm honest, I never really knew him all that much. But he _was_ good, and he certainly didn't deserve to die."

He gives a solemn nod, and we grow quiet as we continue our walk.

"Wanna get your mind off of it for a bit?" Sam breaks the silence suddenly.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Maybe. What were you thinking?"

"I can grab my throwing knives from home." He offers. "We can go to that tree again and just toss 'em. Your aim was getting better."

I shrug, though a smile does form. "Sounds like fun. Why not?"

* * *

A few hours later, the sun is fully in the sky, beating down on the two of us sprawled on the ground. The three knives are stuck high in the marked up tree (my aim has _definitely_ gotten better, thank god,) with neither of us having the intention of yanking them out.

"Tell me," I pant out from the ground, "why did we decide running was a good idea?" After our quick tournament of Who Can Get Their Knife the Highest, which Sam sadly won, we decided to have a race around town. It's blurry on who won.

"Beats me." Sam answers with a laugh. "But it was _your_ idea. You can't pin this one on me." Once he finishes the sentence he takes a quick gasp of air.

I frown. "But that's my favorite part of the day. Blaming my mistakes on you." _Jesus, I'm so out of breath. C'mon, lungs, you got this_. I try to slow the pants down, but I'm barely successful.

"Sorry, chica, not this time." He wheezes out. In one swift movement, he sits up with a grin. "Did I win?"

"Oh," I pant out, following suit, "I have no idea. Tie?" I hold out my hand to him.

"Tie." He agrees, giving me a firm shake.

When I finally get my breathing under control, I pull my hair back and fan at my face and neck. _Good lord, I'm sweating buckets._ It only provides temporary comfort against my hot skin.

"Glad to see you and Carl are better." Sam says as he stands from the ground.

"Huh?" I ask. He holds a hand out for me. I take it gratefully and pull myself up.

"You two seemed a little tense after the dinner the other day." He explains. "But it looks like you two figured it out. Considering he marked his territory." And he smirks as he points to my neck. I immediately blush and pull my hair back into place. _How could I forget they were there?!_

"Shut up." I mutter, embarrassed.

Sam laughs at my sudden shyness. "For what it's worth, you can tell him he has nothing to worry about. I'm no lady-stealer. Especially when said lady would probably stab me in the neck if I truly tried anything."

"Duly noted." I respond with a playful grin. My breathing has finally gone back down to normal, thank god.

The playful mood is broken with the sound of glass shattering somewhere in Alexandria. With a quick look between us, Sam and I immediately start running to the middle of town.

There's a small crowd forming in front of Jessie's house with two people on the ground, fighting. As Sam and I get closer, I immediately recognize said fighters. Rick is in his constable uniform, with blood completely covering his face. His hair and clothes stick to him with sweat, darkening the color grossly. The look would never frighten me normally. I've seen it all the time outside. Hell, _I've_ looked like that before. What truly frightens me is the look in his eyes. The burning anger behind his baby blues solely driving his mind. No logic, no reason; just complete rage.

Underneath him is Pete, Jessie's husband. He doesn't look too far off from Rick. Blood covering himself, sweaty as hell, anger fueling his actions. _What the hell happened between them?_ Pete manages to buck Rick off of him, throwing him to the concrete and straddling him. His hands immediately go to Rick's neck, chocking him harshly. Rick grasps at Pete's neck above him, but he's already losing his strength as Pete chokes him out. _Shit!_

Jessie runs over, tears in her eyes, and she grabs at Pete's arms in vain. "Pete, stop! Stop it!"

He swings an arm back to her, forcefully punching her in the face. She falls to the ground, her hands go to her nose, a trail of blood already forming from the hit. But that action just makes Rick see red. With newfound energy he pushes Pete and manages to get back on top, and with the switch he's able to put force into his movements. He brings his hands back down to Pete's neck, his grip unwavering. He grits his teeth as Pete tries to push back.

"Dad, get off!" Carl goes to his dad, desperately trying to pull him away. Rick swings an arm out, pushing Carl away and knocking him down. Immediately Sam and I run over to him, pulling him away from Rick. I give him a once over and a quick, "Are you okay?" Once he gives me a nod of reassurance I pull away from the two and grab at Rick's arm, holding it tightly in place.

"This isn't helping anything, sheriff!" I yell out to him. I grunt as I feel him push at me, and my grip loosens. "Let him go!"

I wail as his fist connects with my nose, and I pull away in an instant. My hands fly to my nose, which already feels swollen from the trauma. Warm blood slowly drips out onto my fingers as I take a few more steps away from him. His head turns in my direction, and I see the millisecond shift from anger to regret as he looks at my horrified figure. The second is gone, though, and he goes back to his onslaught with Pete.

"Shit, you okay ST?" Sam pulls me further away from the two and his eyes scan over my nose. I jut my neck out a bit, allowing him to search more area around my nose.

"Just pissed." I respond with a bite. "Does it look broken?"

"Can't tell." He says truthfully. "Out of all the injuries I've had, a broken nose isn't one of them."

My attention is brought back to Rick and Pete on the ground as they shift over, Rick's arm completely encompassing Pete's neck. _Is he really gonna choke Pete out in front of all of Alexandria? What happened to the two of them?_

"STOP IT!" Deanna runs over to the group, panting heavily. But there is much bark in her voice as she commands, "Stop it. _Right_. _Now_."

"Touch 'em again, and I'll kill you." Rick growls in Pete's ear.

"Damn it, Rick, I said _stop_!" Deanna orders. A few of the Alexandrians take tentative steps toward the two, intent on pulling Rick away from Pete, before Rick sits up suddenly.

"Or what?" He grins wickedly as he pulls a gun out from his waistline. "You gonna kick me out?"

All the Alexandrians, Deanna and her husband included, take tentative steps back. All their hands raise in surrender.

"Put that gun down, Rick." Deanna calmly suggests, her eyes wide in fear. I guess this is the first time any of them had a gun pointed at them. _That, or Rick is completely insane and they're scared._ Or both.

With a harsh shake of his head, he drops his arm. "You still _don't get it_." He looks out to the crowd around him and shouts out, "NONE OF YOU DO!"

He shakes in place, his mind obviously not right. "We know what needs to be done and we do it. We're the ones who _live_." He points accusingly at Deanna in front of him with the gun. "You! You just _sit_ , and _plan_ , and _hesitate_." With each word he shakes the gun in anger. "You pretend like you know when you _don't_."

 _Oh_ , I think, _this isn't going to help them understand, Rick. This'll just make things worse._

"You wish things weren't what they are." He continues. "Well, you want to live? You want this place to stay standing? Your way of doing things is done! Things don't get better because you- you _want_ them to. Starting right now, we have to live in the _real_ _world_. We have to _control_ who lives here." With the gun he points down accusingly to Pete, and I'm genuinely surprised he's still awake. His eyes burn with fury at Rick from the ground.

"That's never been clearer to me than it is right now." Deanna glares at him, though her tone is unwavering. _She's gonna kick us out one of these days, Rick. Because of this single moment._

"Me?" He points to himself, a grin forming. "You mean me?" He lets out a wild laugh before hissing out, "Your way is gonna destroy this place. It's gonna get people killed. It's already gotten people killed. And I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen. If you don't fight, you die. I'm not just gonna _stand by and_ -"

He doesn't get a chance to finish before mom runs up behind him and punches the back of his head, knocking him completely out. _Oh thank god_.

With a heavy pant she picks the gun up from the ground beside him, flipping the safety on and silently handing it over to Deanna. The movement is harsher than necessary. _She's_ _ **pissed**_.

"Kids, both of you grab an arm." Mom orders. In a quick second Carl and I are at the ready by an arm. "I get his legs."

"What're we doing?" I ask.

As she grabs his legs the three of us lift him off the ground. "Moving his sorry ass somewhere he can cool down." She looks over her shoulder at Deanna. "Where do you want us to put him?"

* * *

 _A/N: Ta da! And the next chapter marks the end of season five! How exciting!_


	16. Chapter 16: Ch-ch-ch-changes

_A/N: Alright, everyone! The last chapter for season five is up and out! The next time this story is updated, we're onto season six. LOTS of exciting pieces will be coming up (Carl's eye, Rick and Michonne's relationship, Enid, Sam, Carl and Alyssa making a badass quartet, changes in Carl and Alyssa's relationship!) Ah, I'm so excited for all of it!_

 _If you enjoy reading this story as much as I love writing it, please leave a review :) They make my day and inspire me to write more._

* * *

Deanna decides to put Rick in a small, empty room adjoining the Monroe house. They must have tried building a garage or something for themselves, and it didn't turn out the way they wanted it to. It's completely bleak, the walls a dull shade of grey, and not a single piece of furniture inside.

Mom, Carl, and I set Rick's unconscious body to the ground as Eric and Reg grab an old mattress for him to sleep on. The second we drop him the back of my hand wipes against my nose, clearing the stream of blood. It's slowing down, but it's still dripping. _Dammit, Rick._ Mom goes inside the Monroe house to grab a chair, positioning it in the corner of the room so she can keep watch on him until he wakes up.

Rosita comes inside, a first aid kit in hand. "His face is pretty messed up, right? I can fix him up."

"Of course." Deanna nods, and she and Reg stalk to the door. "By the way," she throws over her shoulder, "we'll be having a meeting in town hall tomorrow. You are all welcome to join and say your piece." She gives Rick one last disappointed glare before heading out the door.

 _Oh, you fucked up_ _ **bad**_ _sheriff._

The room is tense as Rosita goes to the mattress and looks at his face. Her hands go to the kit, flying as she grabs the proper equipment for some stitches. "I can take a look at you too, Alyssa. That punch seemed pretty bad."

" _He_ _ **hit**_ _you?_ " Mom snarls out.

"It was an accident." I immediately say. "He swung back too hard. He didn't mean to."

"I don't give two shits what he meant and didn't mean to do." She pushes the chair back roughly as she stands and stalks over to me. Her hand grabs at my chin forcefully, twisting my face so she can look me over. Thankfully the blood has stopped; now all I have is a dull pain in the cartilage. "He was out of control today. And he's gonna get his ass handed to him the second he wakes up."

"In Rick's defense, his ass is already pretty beat." Rosita calls from the mattress. With steady hands she sets tiny white strips along the larger cuts, pulling the skin taut together so it can heal properly. "Pete certainty got a number on him."

Mom sets her jaw, but gives a jerky nod in agreement. A, " _fine, I won't kill him now, but later_ ," kind of nod. Which I will gladly take over, "I'm gonna kick his ass immediately."

It takes Rosita a couple more minutes to finish Rick's face, but as soon as she is she beckons me over on the mattress beside her. Her soft hand gently grabs at my chin, maneuvering my face slowly so she can look at my nose. Then she lightly pinches the bridge. I groan at the pain, and she lets go.

"Good news, it's not broken." Rosita says. She sets two white strips along the bridge to keep my skin taut.

"How can you tell?" I ask. I rub at the side of my nose curiously.

"If it was, you would've cried out more. Plus I can move it around some." She demonstrates by booping the tip with her finger and wiggling it around a little. "You should be fine. Give it a couple days before taking the strips off." She resets the strips carefully on my nose and gives my cheek a pat, signaling that she is done.

"Thanks." I say earnestly.

"Anytime, kid." Rosita answers, and she packs up the first aid kit and heads out the door.

I look over to the corner, where mom sits and Carl leans against the wall. Then I twist my head over to the sleeping sheriff on the other side of the mattress.

 _God, Rick, what have you done?_

* * *

It's dusk by the time mom kicks me and Carl out of the room.

"You two, go." She tells us, her hand rubbing her eyes as she speaks. "I'll watch over him."

"You sure?" Carl asks her. He's right; she seems beat. At least Carl and I are decently awake. _The perks of sleeping in a bit later nowadays, I guess._

"Yes. You two go have dinner. Tell the rest that he's not awake yet." She quirks an eyebrow up as she adds, "Maybe ask Carol to send me a plate of whatever's cooking tonight?"

"You got it." I stand from the mattress, internally screaming as my aching legs stretch out and my back pops here and there. I go to her, plant a kiss on her forehead, and wave over my shoulder as Carl and I head out the door. "Love you."

"You, too." She calls back, and the door closes behind us.

Carl grabs at my hand softly, intertwining our fingers as we head back down the street. Some Alexandrians give us nasty looks as we pass their houses. _Of course, we're not trustworthy now. We're associated with the stranger who beat down on the town's only doctor. Great._

"Hey, ST! Carl!" Sam calls from his house's porch. His legs, originally propped up on the fenced area as he sat in a plastic lawn chair, drop the moment he sees us. "Wait up!"

He's not alone, I notice. Enid sits beside him on her own lawn chair, waiting quietly beside him. As he hops up animatedly she follows his lead down the steps and to the two of us.

"Hey, guys." I greet. Carl offers a, "hi," as well.

"How're you feeling?" Sam asks me, pointing to my nose. "Rick got ya pretty good."

"I'm fine." I wave off. "Banged up, but I've had much worse."

Sam and Enid nod in understanding. They've probably suffered worse, too. "Why'd you call us over?" I ask curiously.

"We just wanted you to know-" Sam starts, trailing off as Enid finishes his thought.

"We just wanted you two to know that we're with you." She says smoothly. "Rick's right. These people are weak."

"He had a pretty asshole way of showing it," Sam shrugs, "No offense." He adds as he looks over to Carl. Carl just nods in agreement. "But it's the truth."

"Thank you." Carl answers kindly.

"You going to the meeting tomorrow?" I ask them.

"I'll be there." Sam nods quickly. "Show my support and all that. We need Rick here. We need _all of you_ here."

"I'll go, too." Enid pipes up. For once, the gaze in her eyes is strong. No longer do they have the dull hue of survivor's guilt. She has passion in them, if only a little. "You guys need the numbers against them. I've seen what happens at these _meetings_." She uses air quotes around the words. "They're going to want to kick him out. We aren't just gonna stand by and let it happen."

Carl and I give wide grins at the two of them. Momentarily I drop his hand and throw an arm around each of them, squeezing tightly before letting go. " _Thank you._ It means a lot."

"Anytime, ST. Anytime." Sam winks playfully.

"We're heading home now," Carl says, "but we'll see you guys tomorrow." He gives a curt nod in their direction, his eyes twinkling. _He seems to be growing on Sam. That's awesome._

I wave goodbye to the two of them, my hand going back to Carl's as we head home. He looks over to me. "Do you think that's gonna happen? That they're going to try and kick my dad out?"

"Yes." I answer simply. It's not a surprise. His actions were out of line for these sheltered people. "They're going to _try_." I squeeze his hand tightly. " _Try_ being the key word. They won't succeed."

* * *

Rick finally wakes up the next morning, groggy as all hell and grumpy as shit. Or so mom tells me. I haven't seen him yet. I'm still a little angry at him for _slogging me in the face and giving me a bloody nose._ But no hard feelings. _Totally._

Eh, I'll punch him one of these days and get back at him.

By noontime I'm still in the house, the rest of the group dispersed among the safe zone. Carl is in the living room, fiddling nervously as Judith waddles on the floor. He hasn't been by to see Rick. We were told by mom, Glenn, and Carol to give him some space. I'm in the kitchen, my knife and a blade sharpener in hand. Each swift _SCHLICK_ of the blade against the sharpener is music to my ears. It's the one damn piece of protection I have; I might as well tie a noose around my neck if I let it go dull.

I'm startled by the front door opening, and the quick breath of relief as Carl lets out, "Dad!" I sigh happily in my seat. _At least he's okay._

I set the sharpener back into the cutlery set drawer and shut it swiftly. My blade is left on the table, waiting to be put back where it rightfully belongs. My sheath is upstairs with my clothes, and I sure as hell don't want to be sporting it around Alexandria. _Especially_ at a time like this.

Leisurely I make my way to the hall, resting my top half against the wall and tapping my foot lightly as Rick sets his brown winter jacket (y'know, the one he only commits murders and beatings in,) on a hook by the door. I smile at his back. _Good to see you again, sheriff._

"I heard about the meeting." Carl says to Rick.

"You're staying home." Rick immediately answers.

"Actually, I think he should go." I voice smoothly. Rick turns and looks at me, his gaze swiftly dropping to the white strips on my nose. I look over his face, briefly noting the many white strips on his, and gaze over his eyes. His brow furrows in regret, but he quickly drops the look and stalks over to me.

Wordlessly, his arms go around my sides and pull me close to him. I return the hug contently, squeezing his middle just as tightly as he does mine.

"I'm sorry." He murmurs above me. "You know I wouldn't ever lay a finger on you on purpose. _Ever_."

"I know." I nod into his chest. I begin to pull away as my eyes go up to his. A cheeky smirk forms on my lips. "I'll get you back one a these days."

He gives a jerky nod, quirking the side of mouth up ever so slightly. "Sounds fine to me."

He and I stride over to Carl as I add, "But seriously, we should go to the meeting. They'll want to hear what we have to say." I stand next to Carl, leaning against the back of the sofa and crossing my arms comfortably.

"I can speak for the both of you there." Rick lightly argues. "You two can stay home."

"That's what it is now, right?" Carl asks. "Home?"

 _Is it?_ I think with trepidation. _It sure feels like it now. I haven't felt like this since the prison._

Silently, Rick mulls it over and gives another nod. "Yeah."

"They need us." Carl says. I let out a small puff of air. _Understatement of the year._ "They'll die without us." I nod silently.

"I might have to... threaten one of them." Rick comments lowly. "I might have to kill one of them." He comes over to us quietly, gauging our reaction.

"You won't." Carl answers quickly.

"I might." Rick counters.

I shake my head. "That's a sure way to get _us_ killed, sheriff. They don't understand what it's like out there. They don't _get it_ in our terms. You said it yourself yesterday."

"You have to tell them." Carl says simply.

"Told 'em last night." Rick jerks his head over to me. _Like I just said._

"You have to tell them so they can _hear_ you." Carl corrects. I nod in agreement.

Rick sighs, looming down to our level. And he whispers out, "I don't know if they _can_."

And I understand what he's saying. It's difficult. I can barely stand in the same room as Ron and Mikey for that same reason.

"Does that make you two afraid?" Rick asks, switching his gaze between the two of us.

I shiver without thought. _Yes, it does. How can anyone make it this far in the world, living like this? With some form of community, and not understanding life outside the walls? Without killing? Without feeling hunger and dehydration? They have no sense of true survival._ Silently, I nod to Rick's question.

"Just for them." Carl answers truthfully. "You _have_ to tell them. In a way they'll listen."

"It's the only way for them to make it." I say.

"I know." Rick agrees. He pulls away from the two of us, shuffling to the door. His bandaged hand is on the knob as he turns back to us. "Stay home tonight. I'll handle the meeting."

I sigh exasperatedly at the request. _Bullshit, sheriff. Bull_ _ **shit**_ _._ As he opens the door and heads out I quietly follow. "Hey, sheriff." I call out as he begins a trek down the porch.

"Yeah?" He turns, resting his arm on the bars of the fence on one of the stairs.

"You're going to need to apologize to my mother." I say, fighting back a grin. "Next time you lay a hand on me will be the last time you have hands." He raises an eyebrow at my words.

"Not a threat." I raise my hands up in surrender. "Just a warning. Mom was very pissed when she find out." I drop my hands and trek backwards to the door.

"Maybe buy her a box of chocolate and some roses to smooth it over." I add quickly with a wink.

"Oh, ha ha." Rick rolls his eyes at my snide remark. I give a quick salute to him before opening the door behind me and sliding back in.

"Sooo," I drawl, looming over to Carl. "We're going to that meeting, right?"

He gives a quick nod in agreement. "Why did you even ask that? The answer is yes."

I give a quick chuckle and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Just making sure we're in agreement here."

* * *

By nightfall I'm wrapped in a jean jacket and huddled into Carl's side to block the wind. I'm freezing even though most of Team Family and a large chunk of Alexandria is standing by a large fire with us. Deanna stands by the head of the group, her hands deep in her pockets as she stares into the fire contemplatively. The rest of her family has yet to show up, along with a couple others from our group. I shiver uncontrollably as we wait. _Stupid cold. Stupid wind. Why is it so freezing out?  
_

"Carl? Alyssa?" A southern drawl calls from behind us. We turn, my side desperately clinging to Carls' body heat, and are visited by both Maggie and mom. I note that mom wears her constable outfit; hopefully an outward portrayal of her authority and loyalty to the town. _Smart.  
_

"Hiya." I offer a quick wave to them.

"I wasn't expecting Rick to let you two come along." Mom raises her eyebrow suspiciously.

I whistle nonchalantly at the thought. "Alyssa?" Her voices raises an octave higher.

"Okay, so _maybe_ he didn't say yes." I respond. But before she says anything else I quickly add, "But we have every right to be here like you guys do. We take care of each other, don't we?" My eyes gleam up to her, waiting for her to resign and agree. "Then let us help." I wait for her response as she mulls it over. When she _finally_ nods, I smile softly. "Thank you."

My eyes scan through the crowd, picking out our group. Abraham and Rosita stand away from the fire, apart from most of us. Eugene sits by himself, eyes away from everything but the fire. Carol, in her ugliest flower sweater and upturned collar combo, sits by a few of the older Alexandrian women, chirping animatedly about god knows what. A couple rows behind her I find Sam sitting by himself. I give a small two-finger salute to him. He returns it with a smile. Enid is by the back of the group, closer to the Monroe house instead of the fire. Poor thing wants as much space in between her and the rest of Alexandria as possible. _I don't blame her._ I give her a small salute in greeting as well.

I snuggle deeper into Carl's side, his arm going around my shoulder protectively as I shiver some more. _Stupid cold._ "Where's Glenn?" I ask Maggie. "And Rick?"

"I haven't seen 'em, but they'll be here." She responds confidently.

My head turns at the sound of footsteps, hoping it would be one of our group. However, the owner of the footsteps is Reg and Spencer. They go to Deanna, each giving her a quick hug as they take their places beside her.

"Shall we start?" Deanna hushes the group with the single sentence. Her tone is frigid; her stance stiff. It's a complete 180 from the person I met only a month ago.

"Can we wait a couple minutes?" Mom requests respectfully. "We still have a few people coming."

"Of course." Deanna nods. "A few more minutes."

And the group goes back to talking amongst themselves quietly while we wait. I don't enjoy the side-eye that some of the Alexandrians give to my group. Their prejudice rings loud and true as they give shifty glances to mom and Maggie. _Of course, the two from our group put in power. They don't want us to have jack-shit, nevertheless a place with Deanna._

Though it's not all glares and anger. Eric gives us a kind smile as he passes by us and sits beside Sam. And Jessie gives an approving nod to our group. It must take a lot for her to side with us, considering Rick nearly killed her husband just yesterday. _But who am I to judge? You do you, sweetheart._

After the group dies down and there are still no signs of Rick and Glenn showing, my worry begins to grow. _Where are they? Picking out clothes and putting on make-up? C'mon, fellas._

Deanna quickly grows impatient at the long wait. After what feels like an hour, she announces, "We're going to start."

"Can we wait?" Maggie pipes up swiftly. "There's still people comin'. Glenn, Rick."

Deanna shakes her head, this time putting more force behind her words. "We're _going_ to start." _Ouch_. "It's already dark."

"We're going to talk about what happened." Deanna begins. "Not the fight. Not what precipitated it. We're dealing with that. We're going to talk about one of our constables, Rick Grimes. We're going to talk about how he had a pistol he stole from the armory, about how he pointed it at people. And we're going to talk about what he said. I was hoping he'd be here."

"She _said_ he's coming." Mom quickly defends.

"I'm sure he'll be here." Carol adds with her brightest smile. "And I'm sure we can work this all out."

"So, who wants to start?" Deanna asks the crowd. "I'm sure we all have a lot to say."

"Well," Jessie starts. She leans forward in her chair, quietly adjusting a strand of hair behind her ear with a shaky hand. "I'm sure Rick didn't mean what he said to us. It's all just a misunderstanding. The fight got out of hand, adrenaline was pumping. I mean, we _all_ do stupid stuff when we're angry, right?" She looks to the crowd hopefully, finding a couple half-assed nods from her fellow townspeople.

"Quite frankly, I disagree." Sam shakes his head. The crowd turns to him, waiting for him to elaborate. He leans forward in his chair, using his hands to talk animatedly. "He knew exactly what he was saying. That's how you _live_ outside the fence. Out there is, well, terrifying to say the least, and if you don't take control and do what needs to be done, people die. It's plain and simple. Rick and his family have _lived_ out there. _I_ have lived out there. We understand the harsh reality of it all."

All of our group nods with the statement. He quickly adds, "Rick wasn't right in making an ass of himself and pointing his gun around, but his words ring true."

"Exactly." Mom nods to Sam politely. "And after being out there, and then not being how you were out there... It can drive you crazy."

"It's a culture shock." I add. "We all went through it coming into these walls."

Mom nods to me before turning to Deanna. "Rick just wants his family to _live_. He wants all of _you_ to live. Who he is, is who you're gonna be. If you're lucky."

The group seems against such words. No, they don't want to change. Not to be like him; to be like _us_. They would rather toss us out on the street and keep living their daydream rather than become what they _need_ to be.

And I have an idea. I pull away from Carl and stand on my own, forgetting about the frigidness of the air. "With this talk of Rick Grimes," I start. All eyes turn to me. I try not to shy away from the glances. _I need to be heard._ "And who he is, I'm sure you're all wondering if he's even a good guy. It's a valid question on your side. You've only seen the man as wild and rabid." I will my voice to be louder as I straighten my back. "Well, I can tell you exactly who he is. Rick Grimes is one of the best men I know. And I can prove it." With their attention solely focused on me, I take a deep breath. "Let me tell you a story."

"Our group was split up for a while." I start, my eyes going over to the crowd and making eye contact with some of the Alexandrians. "We had just lost our home by the hands of another group. For a while, it was just me, mom, Carl, Rick, and Daryl." I think back to all those months ago. The memory is starting to get foggy. "We were ambushed in the middle of the night. Called themselves the Claimers. We were outnumbered. Two men, maybe three, were beatin' on Carl and Daryl. There was a gun on mom's head, one on Rick's head. The guy on me? He..." I involuntarily shiver at the thought of him.

 _Ah, shit. I haven't thought about this in so long. I feel disgusted, violated. Like his filthy hands are crawling all over me again._

Mom's hand goes to me shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts. _Thank you._ Willing myself to continue, to get it over with, I finish my thought. "He touched me in places that shouldn't be touched. He _hurt_ me. Violated me. And Rick? He single-handedly took down that leader and _saved_ us. He killed my molester without a second thought. And he held me as I cried until he knew I was okay." My eyes reach into Deanna's, hoping that she sees the good in Rick from my story. "He doesn't hurt others for the joy of it. He doesn't _want_ to do it; but he _protects_ his people, no matter the cost. That's what he wants you all to understand." Calling out to the crowd one last time, I say with as much conviction I can muster, "Rick Grimes, constable of Alexandria, is a _good man_. One of the best. He protects his family, and he wants to protect all of you, too. He just wants you to see that the way he does."

"It's true." Carol pipes in, taking the eyes off of me. _Oh, thank god._ I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second to breathe. I haven't thought about that day in a while. I hope I never have to think of it again.

"We all have that kind of story, being saved by Rick Grimes. He has saved _my_ life, over and over again." Carol continues. "There's _terrifying_ people out there. And he rescued me from them. Rescued _all of us_ from them. People like _me_... People like _us_... We _need_ people like him. I know what happened last night was scary, and I'm sure he's sorry for that. But maybe we should listen to what he was saying."

"Simply put," Abraham adds in, "there is a _vast_ ocean of shit that you people don't know _shit_ about. Rick knows every fine grain of said shit, and then some."

 _What a way with words, Abraham. Puts my speech to shame,_ I think with an inward giggle. He adds, "That man has earned my respect time and time again. He's trusted me even after I've done some stupid shit. With a man like that, who's saved our asses from the chopping block, it's hard not to trust that son of a bitch."

Maggie speaks up from behind me, snaking her way around and leaning to the Alexandrians. "My father respected Rick Grimes. Rick is a father, too."

Unconsciously my hand wraps around Carl's, giving it a squeeze. _God, he must be going crazy with all this. He hasn't said a word since we left the house._

I listen as Maggie continues. "He's a man with a good heart, who feels the things he does, the things he _has_ to do. And all of us, who were together before this place, no matter when we found each other, we're family now." _Amen, Maggie. We've said it from the start._ "Rick started that. And you won't stop it; you can't. And you don't _want_ to. This community, you people... That family, you want to be a part of it, too."

"Before we hear from anyone else, I..." Deanna takes a deep breath, shaking her head as she walks closer to the fire. She rubs her hands nervously. "I would like to share something in the spirit of transparency."

 _Oh? Do tell._

"Father Gabriel came to see me the day before yesterday, and he said our new arrivals can't be trusted; that they were dangerous, that they would put themselves before this community."

 _That little_ _ **weasel**_ _! How could he, after all the things we've done for him?_

"And not _one day later_ ," Deanna continues, "Rick seemed to demonstrate all the things father Gabriel said. I had hoped Gabriel would be here tonight."

 _No, he wouldn't show his face to the group he back-talked about. He's a rat who scurries away at the first sign of trouble._

"I don't see him here, Deanna." Jessie points out. "So you're just repeating what someone said. Did you tape him?"

Deanna shakes his head. After Maggie quickly scans through the group, she look back to Deanna. "He's not here."

"Neither is Rick." Deanna counters. The two stare at each other intensely, gazes unwavering as their eyes connect.

Maggie pulls away first, turning away from the group and walking into the darkness. "Excuse me."

 _Where are you going?_

"After, after hearing all that," an Alexandrian clad in a plaid shirt stands from his seat. I rack my brain to remember his name. _Tobin, I think?_ "My thoughts are still the same. I just wanna keep my family safe. I don't even know what that means anymore, but if it means that we've got to get rid of- of-" he trails off as he looks the disapproving glares of Team Family. But it's not us that captures his full attention. No, it's the man hiding in the darkness, slowly walking to the fire.

 _Oh, god, Rick._ Slung on his shoulder is the dead carcass of a walker, eyes completely exploded with gunk and bits of brain stuck to its hair. Rick doesn't look too good either. Blood covers most of his face, and his strands of curly brown locks stick to his forehead with sweat. Carl tightens his grip on my hand. I understand the emotion; Rick is not making this any easier.

With barely any force at all, Rick tosses the walker to the ground. Many women turn away from the body in disgust. They stand from their seats, taking quick strides to put distance between themselves and the body. I begin to think that some of them may even hurl. _It's just a walker, guys. A dead one at that. Nothing to be afraid of. Is this the first time you've seen one?_

"There wasn't a guard on the gate." Rick said simply. It's amusing how calm he sounds; his appearance makes him look wild, though his words dance easily off his tongue. "It was open."

Deanna looks accusingly to Spencer. He struggles out, "I-I asked father Gabriel to close it."

"Go." She demands. He scampers off quickly to the front of the town. _Momma's boy is gonna get his ass handed to him when he gets back._

"I didn't bring it in." Rick announces to the crowd. _Considering that's exactly what they're thinking, thank you for clearing that up._ He goes to the middle of the group, right beside the enormous fire pit so he can be seen by everyone. "It got inside on its _own_. They always will." He turns to Deanna and Reg as the people quiet down, his words out for everyone to hear but specifically for the two leaders. "The dead _and_ the living, because _we're_ here. And the ones out there... They'll hunt us. They'll find us. They'll try to use us. They'll try to _kill_ us."

The spark in his eyes is bright as he speaks. _He's trying to get them to understand in their terms. Demonstration was used with the walker, but together it should be meaningful to them._ "But _we'll_ kill _them_. You'll survive. I'll show you how. Y'know, I was thinkin'... I was thinkin' how many of you do I have to kill to save your lives?" He pauses, looking to the crowd and gauging the reaction. It's not much of a welcomed threat, but transparency here is important. They should at least give him props for admitting it. "But I'm not gonna do that. _You're_ gonna change. I'm not sorry for what I said last night. I'm sorry for not saying it _sooner_. You're not ready, but you have to be. _Right now_ , you have to be. Luck runs out."

After saying his piece, he gives a firm nod to his speech all pulls away from the fire and Deanna. Rick seems to want to leave, and he begins a soft, slow stride back to the direction of the houses. As he turns away from the group, a low growl sounds from the darkness. "You're not one of us."

Stalking toward Rick's direction, a katana- _mom's katana_ \- swinging in hand, is Pete. He yells out again, _"You're not one of us!"_

"Pete!" Reg steps between Rick and Pete, holding his hand out to stop Pete from moving any closer. _You wouldn't even get a bruise on Rick. You know you're outnumbered. One move and we all hound your ass. You'd be dead before you know it._ "You don't wanna do this."

The rest of the town back away from Pete, fear and tension clearly set. Those from Team Family immediately straighten up, as does Sam, our memories of fighting flooding back into our minds. We know how to keep these people safe if Pete truly tries anything. Still, it doesn't hurt to take a few generous steps away from the lunatic with a weapon he doesn't even know how to wield.

"Get the hell outta my way, Reg." Pete shoves him away with his empty hand, and the sword swings upward, the blade dangerously close to Reg's face.

"Pete, just stop." Reg tries to calm the doctor down, edging his way closer while being cautious of the blade. He manages to get a hand on Pete's shoulder before being shoved off again.

"I said get the fuck away from me!" Pete furiously calls out, his hands shaking with complete rage. Jessie calls out to him, telling him to stop and to calm down. He doesn't take the request kindly. The katana tips over, closer to Reg's face. _He's **mad**. And I mean the British version of the word. He's gone insane._

The next time Reg cautiously steps over to Pete is the last time he walks. The blade is pulled back down, intending to be by Pete's side. He forgets the fact that Reg is so close and the blade is so sharp. It slices through Reg's neck easily, like a knife through butter. The screams of the group fill my ears. It might be the first time watching someone die for them. It's not a pleasant thought.

Blood spews from Reg's neck as he gargles out for help. His hands desperately reaches to his neck, covering some of the wound as the red spills and squirts through his fingertips. He falls to the ground harshly, his eyes quickly losing their glow as he sputters out a, "Help!"

Deanna screams and drops to the ground beside his shaking body. Her arms cradle his form, pulling him into her lap as she openly weeps. "No! No, no, _no_!"

Abraham shoves Pete to the ground, straddling his back and holding his arms down forcefully. The katana clanks to the ground, forgotten by many as they all watch Reg fully pass away. They cry and scream with Deanna, horrified by the sight. I'm completely monotonous and my face is blank. This isn't new to me. Death is everywhere. _Now they know._

"This is him!" Pete shouts accusingly to Rick on the ground.

"Shut up!" Abraham roughly shoves Pete's face into the gravel as the doctor cries out again.

"Oh, god!" Deanna cries as Reg convulses in her arms. The blood pools at his neck, spilling over himself and Deanna. "Oh, my love. My love, my love, no!"

Then he goes limp in her arms. His eyes, originally wide with fear, grow dull in just a second as his arms stop shaking. _He's gone._

"This is _HIM_!" Pete screams from the ground. "This is him!" Rick eyes the newfound killer, his gaze controlled. He's not losing his temper tonight. Pete has already made it clear that he is unfit for this world.

Deanna looks up to Rick, her breathing slowed. "Rick..." She looks over to Pete on the ground. Her husband's killer. And in this moment she's finally realized how things are in this post-apocalyptic world.

 _Kill, or be killed._

"Do it."

Rick nods to the command, and in a split second he pulls a gun from his waistband and shoots Pete in the forehead. Some scream in the crowd. _They're terrified. But they'll learn. They already are._

 _Welcome to the new world, Alexandria._

* * *

 _A/N: *Trumpet noise* Ba ba da daa! All done! Goodbye season five, hello season six! Tell me what you thought about it! Reviews and PMs are always welcome in my corner of the world. I promise I won't bite ;)_


	17. Chapter 17: Herd Control

_A/N: Hello all!_

 _Sorry for the long,awful wait. Life has been crazy as of late. College keeps me busy, and work does, too. Best part? The day before New Years, I was in a car accident. I'm totally fine, but my poor car was totaled so I have a new (older,) one. If anyone wants to donate a couple bucks so I can get a better one I would not oppose. (Just kidding!)_

 _So yeah, that's how my life has been. But thankfully I got a chapter out for both this AND my Fear the Walking Dead story. Woop woop! Progress! Hope you all enjoy the beginning of season six! :)_

* * *

As if the night could get any crazier, a quiet voice calls through the crowd. "Rick?"

 _No. Way._

Morgan stands in between Aaron and Daryl, clad in a large cream colored jacket and sporting a wooden staff. _You stabbed me that one time! You were out of control!_ Now, he seems completely calm, albeit confused with the currently messy status of our friendly neighborhood constable Rick Grimes.

"... Morgan?" Rick chirps out, his face contorting in confusion.

The man in question waits a beat before answering. "In the flesh." He gazes around the state of the group; of the crying Deanna and the terrified men and women crowding around their lawn chairs. "It seems we have... Much to talk about."

Rick does his signature head-tilt, an unamused smirk playing on his lips. "Yes, yes we do."

And just like that, the meeting's over. The Alexandrian crowd quietly disperses, leaving the grieving Deanna on the ground. They give sad frowns and say their goodbyes as they pass. I don't think Deanna hears them. She brings a shaking hand to Reg's face, bloodied and wet. Whispers and sobs of, "my love," rack through her as she plants a kiss to his forehead. My heart aches for her.

Morgan takes a few tentative steps into the fire light as Spencer runs back to the scene, and it's painful to watch as the emotions cross his face once he realizes his father is dead. It's even more painful as he drops to his knees, completely silent, eyes filled with tears.

"Go, kids." Mom shoves me and Carl away from the scene. "You don't need to see this."

And I agree. It's a private moment for the family. The second loss in two days. I understand the pain.

So quietly, Carl and I head back in the direction of our houses, to the front gates and the small pavilion by the water. He hasn't said a word since before we got to the meeting. _That's probably not good._

"You okay?" I ask tentatively, my hand still holding onto his.

He shrugs. "I... I guess."

I stop my movements and stand, letting go of his hand as I stare up at him. "Then you're better off than me. I'm _pissed._ That whole time, them talking about Rick like he's some monster that needs to be taken care of, father Gabriel's little confession about our team..." I spit out his name like venom. _What an asshole._ "I couldn't believe them."

"I think I'm in more shock than anything." He confesses. And our feet begin a slow trek down the street. "I'm still latching onto the idea that these guys haven't seen life outside the gates. What my dad does is basic survival. They treat it like he's torturing innocent people."

I nod at the words, completely understanding. "Well, I think we get to stay now." _One damn positive from this night._

"Yeah..." He trails off. His eyes head to the dark platform toward the front of the walls, just left of the gates' opening. "Who's that?"

Two looking figures accompany the top of the platform. One has their arms wrapped around a knee with the other leg dangling from the edge. The second leans backs on the platform, their elbows bent as they stare up at the sky. Both are quiet as they rest.

"Enid? Sam?" I question, and as we walk closer to them my suspicions are correct. They must've left the meeting before anyone else to be situated on the other side of town so quickly. I hiss out to them a quiet, "Hey!" before we trek all the way over.

"Howdy." Sam responds softly. His hand pats the spot to his left, offering me and Carl a spot on the grey square. The both of us hop up, thankful for the invitation.

It's silent as the four of us sit, just staring up at the stars. I try to pick out constellations I know of, though truth be told I only know Big Dipper and Little Dipper. But I'm okay with just resting beside the three others. The silence is a comfort after all we've seen tonight.

Though it seems Sam has other thoughts. He's the one to speak first, his voice quiet as he asks, "So, what happens next?"

"I don't know." Carl responds truthfully. "Alexandria's going through changes now. They have a taste of what it's like living on the outside. Hopefully it's enough to shock them."

"And if it's not?"

"If it's not, we still have each other." I pip up. " _We_ know. That'll have to be enough."

"It might not be." Enid mutters out. I look over to her, listening but not agreeing.

"It _has_ to be." I reason. "It _will_ be."

I lean over the edge of the platform to look at Enid and Sam beside me, then to Carl on my other side. "Promise me." I start earnestly. "Promise me that we'll _all_ make it through whatever happens next. The four of us. We _need_ to."

"We might not-" Sam starts, but I interrupt him.

"I'm not listening to this bullshit negativity. We _need_ to survive, no matter what. I'm not losing anyone else."

"We won't." Carl nods earnestly. His hand grips at my own tightly, proving to me that he believes, too.

I jerk my head over to look at Sam and Enid. While they don't believe as strongly as I do, they give soft nods in my direction. And that's enough for me. _Good._

And I turn my eyes back up to the stars. With a deep, slow breath through my nostrils, I let my mind rest.

 _This is all we need tonight. Reassurance. Air. Friends. Nothing more._

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER

A meeting has been called again, bringing us inside the Monroe house. Specifically, the library area where Deanna holds her interviews. I wonder how many meetings Alexandria has. Do they hold these frequently, or are two meetings two days apart an anomaly?

These mundane thoughts wander my mind as I rest silently against a wall, the tension in the air between Alexandrians and my group almost tangible in the air. They stare at us quietly, judging us. They have been since Rick and Pete's fight. _Now_ , with Pete's death- his _very_ public insanity episode and execution via Rick- we haven't exactly been loved by all.

I tap the end of my gun in its holster by my waist, generating a soft _PAT PAT_ beat in the silence of the room. Thankfully, Deanna has agreed to let everyone be armed inside the walls. Of course, Team Family immediately grabbed our shit from the armory and suited up. My knife is proudly sheathed on my other hip. I feel so much safer with them. Some Alexandrians have taken up a knife or two as well. I know that not many wanted guns, seeing as they aren't trained in the use of it. Because of their lack of knowledge on anything murder-y, Rosita decided to start a class on weaponry at daybreak each morning. Yesterday, three people showed up. Today, it's gone up to four.

Some want to learn. I'm surprised. It's a step in the right direction for the community. Sadly, that doesn't mean that they all trust us yet. _Yet._

My eyes find mom's across the room. "Where's Rick?" I mouth out to her. It was him and Morgan who called for this emergency meeting. Her quick response is, "I don't know."

 _Ah, dammit._ Carl doesn't know, either. Of course they don't; he's been MIA since leaving Alexandria to drop Pete's body off somewhere. Everyone in the room seems to be getting restless, my team included. Maggie and Glenn sit on the couch, directly in the middle of the room. They whisper to each other, quiet, but the look in Glenn's face shows me that whatever they're talking about, he's not enjoying.

 _Maybe they're talking about the, "walker fight," he and Nicholas had outside the gates._

The night of Reg's death, Glenn and Nicholas were apparently a couple miles outside the community, fighting off a small herd of walkers. Glenn got nicked by a ricochet bullet in his shoulder.

At least, that's what he's telling us. I don't believe it so much. Nicholas was the reason Noah died, and Glenn hadn't hesitated to say that to Deanna and us. Maybe Nicholas just wanted to keep him quiet.

But for some godforsaken reason, Glenn didn't kill the bastard. I don't know why. _Glenn's just more humane than me. I wouldn't have hesitated to stab the guy and be done with it._

Maggie's eyes reach mine, and she gives me a soft smile. It's a contrast to the worry in her face just a moment ago. I respond and wave to her in silent greeting.

The door finally opens, and Rick saunters through, Morgan in tow. _Took your sweet time, sheriff._

"There's a herd. Maybe three hundred of them. They're close to the town."

 _Oh,_ _ **shit.**_

* * *

"My team," Heath starts. He's from Alexandria, too. Turns out he and a couple more people have been on a run for the past month. He seems decent enough; I don't hate him yet. "We saw it early on. Back when we were on one of them first scouts, finding out what was around here. There was a camp at the bottom. The people, they must have blocked the exits with one a those trucks, back when everything started to go bad. They didn't make it; they were all roamers, maybe a dozen of them."

"No one's been back since?" Maggie asks softly.

Heath shakes his head. "DC. Every town worth scavenging are all in the other direction. And I never really felt like having a picnic next to the camp that ate itself."

"So all the while the walkers have been drawn by the sound, making _more_ sound and drawing more in." Mom hypothesizes.

Rick nods in agreement. "And here we are." He looks around the group as a whole, the worry in our faces growing. "Now what I'm proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slippin' through the exits. One of the trucks keepin' the walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain. Then that exit sends them _east. All_ of them, right at us."

Quiet murmurs break out around the room, Alexandrians and Team Family members alike. _He's right; his plan_ _ **is**_ _risky, but it might be the only way._ Some of them turn to Deanna, who stares out the large wall to ceiling windows, contemplating.

Rick speaks up again, trying to convince all of us to go along. "This isn't about _if_ it gives, it's _when._ It's gonna happen, that's why we have to do this soon."

"Oh, god, this is-I don't even have another word for it, this is _terrifying._ " Carol speaks up, her arms delicately folded around her form. Her eyes give off an air of fright, so I know she speaks truthfully. She still wears a horrible flower sweater and collared shirt combo; she still is playing the part of weak housewife. She glances around the room and adds, "All of it. But it doesn't sound like there's any other way."

An Alexandrian in plaid looks to her, thinking quickly as he says, "Maybe there is."

He's most definitely against Rick's plan. At every explanation Rick tried to give, he added a complaint of how we would move the walkers from point A to point B. My brain tries to think of his name. _Cartman? Cardin? Carter?_ One of those, anyways.

"Couldn't we just build up the weak spots?" Plaid-C-Name Guy offers. "I could draw up plans. I worked on the wall with Reg. Construction crew. We could try and make it safe! We could-"

"Even if we _could_ ," Rick interrupts, "The _sound_ is what's drawing more and more walkers every day. Building up the exits won't change that."

 _Very true,_ I agree. I side-eye at Carl, gauging his reaction on the prospect of over three hundred walkers being only a few miles away. He's about as happy as I am.

"We do what Rick says." Deanna finally speaks from the window. I think it's the first time she's talked all day. "The plan he's laid out."

Rick looks to the back of her head, waiting for her to turn around and face the group. She doesn't. He turns back to the group, shrugging before talking again. "I told you all. We're gonna have Daryl leading them away."

"Me too." Sasha pips up from the couch, beside Maggie. She's gotten better since losing Tyreese. "I'll take a car, ride next to him. It can't just be him. I'll keep 'em coming, Daryl keeps 'em from getting sloppy."

"I'll go with her." Abraham raises his hand from the armrest of his chair, two fingers outstretched as he volunteers. "It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo."

Rick nods to the pair. "We'll have two teams. One on each side of the forest to help manage this thing." As the room as a whole nods to him, he adds, "We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer, and Holly. So they're out. Who's in?"

Mom, with her arms crossed in from of her, raises a hand by her side. "Me."

 _Of course._ I was expecting that. "Should we even bother volunteering?" I jerk my head over to Carl, showing that I was speaking for the both of us.

Rick softly shakes his head no at the same time Spencer vehemently raises his voice, "No way! We're not having kids on this mission. It's too risky; you guys could screw things up."

I twist my head over to look at him, my eyes squinting at his form in anger. My arms cross over my chest as I tap my foot. "You think we'd screw this up?" My words drip in sarcasm.

Rick looks to Spencer, obviously angry as well. "They'd probably be more help than you out there." _Ha ha. Thank you!_ Spencer opens his mouth to speak, but Rick shushes him as he takes a generous step forward. "I can trust those two to deliver out there. You know how many walkers they've killed?"

He waits a beat before Spencer quickly answers. "No."

"Neither do I." Rick answer simply. "More than I can count. How many have you?"

Spencer thinks a moment, turning to look at his mother's back. He waits, hopeful that his mother would turn and help him out from the third degree he's getting from Rick. When she doesn't, he frowns in defeat. "Three."

"Three." Rick repeats as he looks down to Spencer's embarrassed form, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he cracks a smirk. "They stay home because I need people competent enough to keep this place safe." He jerks his head around to look at me and Carl. "You two think you got that?"

Carl nods silently as I answer with, "Definitely."

Mentally I stick my tongue out at Spencer. _Don't fuck around with Rick's kids. Not that I'm his kid_ , I quickly fix my wording. _But I'm dating one, and that pretty much makes me family._

"They stay. Daryl, Michonne, Sasha, Abraham." Rick lists those for the mission. "I need more. Who else?"

"I'll go." Glenn answers from the couch. I look expectantly to Maggie beside him, and I'm shocked when I don't hear her volunteer.

"I'd like to help as well." Father Gabriel offers, holding a hand up as he looks to Rick.

"No." Rick immediately responds. He doesn't even look to Gabriel before shooting him down. _Serves him right._ "Who else? We need more."

"There's gotta be another play." Plaid-C-Name Guy says. "We can't just _control_ that many."

"I've said it before." Rick disagrees, and he slowly explains. "Walkers. Herd. Up. They'll follow a path if something's drawing them. That's how we can get 'em all at once."

"So what?" Plaid guy scoffs. "We're just-just supposed to take your word for it? We're all supposed to just fall in line behind you after..."

Rick cocks his head to the side, waiting for the other to finish. "After WHAT?"

Carl's back straightens up, as does mine and mom's as we wait expectantly for his answer.

Plaid guy seems to realize he's fallen into a trap as he gazes around our team. But it doesn't stop him; he goes off just as expected. "After you wave a gun around. Screaming, _pointing_ it at people. After you shoot a man _in the face._ After you-"

"Enough, Carter!" Deanna barks at him, finally turning around and surveying him. He backs off, closing his mouth tightly in anger. I see the way he grinds his teeth down to stop himself from adding more to his little, "after," speech.

He stares at Rick silently, venomously, but Rick turns away from him. _Good. We don't need another fistfight._

"I'll do it." Heath volunteers. I'm glad; he seems to know a lot about being outside, and using weapons. He's smart. Useful.

"Me too." A small woman with a pixie cut pips up beside him.

"Whatever you need, I'm in." Tobin nods to Rick.

"Now who else?" Deanna asks. Her tone is harsher than I expected. _Not that I blame her. She's been through hell._

Nicholas, after eyeing Glenn and debating his options, raises his hand. "I'll go."

 _Oh, sure. That'll end well._

He looks to Glenn solely and adds, "We need to do this. I need to help." Quietly I give him a once-over. _He almost seems sincere._ Even with that, though, I still don't trust him.

Nor does Rick seem to. "You sure you can handle it?"

Nicholas shrugs. "You need people."

With that thought, Rick nods and allows it before addressing the whole group. "We'll make this work. We'll keep this place safe, keep _our families_ safe. We will."

"About your plan," Carter says, "Go through it again."

"Man, he just said it." Daryl's rough voice spits out.

Carter glares at the two men. "Every detail. Every part. Again. The exact plan."

Looks like we're gonna be here a while.

* * *

FOUR DAYS LATER

"Heading out?"

My voice is quiet and groggy. It's barely six in the morning. The sun shines through the windows of the kitchen while Carl and I quietly munch on some oatmeal. It's gross, but it's food.

"Yeah." Mom answers softly by the front door. Rick is just behind her as she glides into the kitchen. "We figured out a route for the herd. Rick and I and a couple others are gonna start setting up the trucks and sheet metal." She makes her way between me and Carl, a hand on our shoulders. Just the small touch is comforting from her.

"But it's so early." Carl says. "Can't you guys wait a little while longer?"

"I wish." Rick replies. "Carter wants the plan in tip-top shape. Whether he likes it or not, it's happening. And he's not gonna let his friends die because he's petty."

I nod at the response, and mom adds, "The others will be joining us in a few, too." She gently brings both arms around me, holding me as she plants a sweet kiss on the top of my head. "But we need to start packing up the sheet metal and grab a couple balloons to set up the color stations."

"Okay." I say, my hand rubbing up and down one of her arms. "Anything on the list for us today?"

"Just make sure everyone inside is safe." Rick tells me and Carl. "There's a couple more people joining Rosita's class, so just watch out for the ones that aren't."

"Maybe check on Ron?" Mom gazes over to Carl. "See how he's doing?"

Carl gives a slow half-nod at the suggestion. "He hasn't wanted to see me. Not since..."

'Pete's death' hangs heavy in the air. Sadly, it's true. Ron hasn't wanted to hang out with either of us. I want to say it's understandable, considering his father's murderer is Carl's dad, and I'm pretty close to him, but at the same time Pete was an abusive, drunk asshole.

"I'm sure you two will find something to keep yourselves busy." Rick breaks the silence. Carl and I both nod. He looks over to mom. "Ready to go?"

She gives a soft, "yes," in response. Her hand grazes my back as she pulls away from me, and it lands on Carl's shoulder as she walks by him. She plants a quick kiss atop his head like she did with me before heading to Rick. Rick looks to both of us, his blue eyes gleaming at us as he waves goodbye.

"Stay safe out there." I tell the both of them.

"Always." Rick answers.

The two give us one last look before they head out the front door. My eyes connect with Carl's, and I can't help the sinking feeling in my stomach.

 _They'll be fine_ , I tell myself.

But I can't help it. I just don't think that it's true.

* * *

FIVE DAYS LATER

It's early again, though this time it's seven in the morning. The adults got to, "sleep in," the day before the storm.

All of us are in the kitchen; Carol had cooked a large breakfast for those going out on the mission. She gets to stay home and hold down the fort. She can't break the soft, weak character that she's created.

There's not much small talk filling the air. The sounds of spoons swirling liquid in a cup, knives clinking against plates, but not much chatter. It's tense.

 _Everyone's worried,_ I reason. _It makes sense. We haven't done something this big since trying to get out of Terminus._

I still haven't shaken off the sinking feeling in my stomach. It's gotten worse since yesterday. What felt like two butterflies in my stomach has now turned into five or six.

"Today is a dry run." Rick tells the group. He grabs a backpack from the living room, a hand shuffling around through it. "Everything should be fine. But, in case it doesn't, we have an extra walkie talkie." He pulls one out of his bag; a large, black rectangle with a decently long antenna at the top. He bends down at his knees to reach our short height from the dining room chairs.

The others going on the run head out the front door quietly, Maggie included. She gets to stay behind and work with Deanna, hopefully helping the leader out of her depressive state. Carol runs off to the pantry, grabbing some more food to make another casserole for Deanna. The emptiness of the room hits me almost immediately. _Something's wrong. I don't know what, but I can feel it in the air._

"The signal probably won't reach us while we're out there." Rick explains to me and Carl. "You may hear some radio chatter if we break off into our groups, but it's just a dry run so we shouldn't. And when we redirect the herd tomorrow, we're gonna be pretty far out. But for both days, going out, heading back, if anything happens we'll be sure to call on here, okay?"

"Got it." Carl says for the both of us.

"Anything happens out here, you do the same." Rick looks to the both of us, and we nod in understanding.

"Good." He leans to Carl and presses a chaste kiss on his forehead before turning and doing the same to me. "Everything should be fine, but just in case."

 _Just in case_ , I repeat. _Everything will be fine._

I wonder how many times I need to say it until I truly believe it.

Then he heads to the door, leaving the walkie talkie with us. My eyes look at it in trepidation; this doesn't feel right. I don't know why I feel this way, but _something_ is going to go wrong. I don't know what, but _something._

I hope I'm wrong.

"C'mon." Carl says quietly. He grabs our plates and sets them in the sink as I stand from my chair.

The front door opens again and Carol strolls through, a filled basket of food in hand. Her eyes meet mine curiously. _She could always tell when something was wrong._ Thankfully she doesn't say anything. Silently, I grab the walkie talkie and Carol passes by, setting the spices and other items on the table.

Watching her work pulls me out of my negative thoughts. _C'mon, Alyssa. Think positively_ ; there is no reason I should be worried. They're my group. They're talented and strong and they have dealt with more shit than I can count on my fingers and toes combined. They're fine.

So I force myself to make small talk as Carl starts walking to the stairs of the house. "Anything on the agenda for today?"

He shrugs. "Not really. I was just gonna play with Judith. Maybe patrol around town and see how everyone's doing."

We trek up the stairs quickly and head into Rick and mom's room, where Judith's crib is set up. I find it funny how she can sleep through anything, just like Carl. She's just barely awake now, her eyes still squinting in the sunlight through the open window beside her.

"Hey, little munchkin!" I squeal excitedly and head up beside the crib, tossing the walkie talkie on mom and Rick's bed. "How's the best Grimes doing today?"

Her huge eyes watch me in wonder as I lean forward, close to her face and push back her hair in a gentle curl. I hear Carl snort beside me, and I look back to him with a smirk. "What? Something you want to say?"

"Ah, no." He shakes his head, a dazed and playful smile forming. "You're totally right; Judith is the best Grimes out there."

"Damn right." I chuckle, though I bring my head up to him and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Though you're in my top three."

"Oh, how lovely." He rolls his eyes. I laugh at the gesture.

As Judith is now fully awake, I snake my hands around her form and pull her from the crib. She babbles softly as her head lolls forward onto my chest, still groggy. Then the scent hits me.

"Oh, she lost her spot." I scrunch my nose in disgust. _Oh, what did she_ _ **eat**_ _last night?!_ "Yep, maybe not the best Grimes. Oh." I force myself to not vomit as I hand her off to Carl. "She's your sister. You take care of this."

He makes a vague sound of repulsion as I hand her off. "Eww."

"Yup." I pinch my nose to add emphasis. "Where are the diapers? I'll grab some."

"Shit, um…" He looks underneath the crib and the changing table beside it, but only finds new baby clothes and some toys. "Check their bathroom maybe?"

I hurriedly nod and take gracious steps away from Judith and her stinky diaper. Rummaging around the cabinet with a repulsed vigor, I finally find a pile and grab some wipes and baby powder with one in hand. "Bingo!" I call out. I run back to him and set the items on the changing table by Judith's feet.

"Yeah, that's great, but it's on her clothes, too." He points to a newfound brown spot by the flap near her butt. I shiver, grossed out. "We might as well give her a bath. How big's the sink in there?"

I think back to it; it's decently deep, with rounded edges in black marble. "It's good enough." _Just clean her, dammit._

"Okay. I'll..." He sighs in defeat, and I hear the sound of Velcro being ripped. "I'll clean as much of the damage as I can first. Wanna get the water running?"

I nod, and after Carl cleans as much off as he can, he manages to hose her down with the shower jet and then the two of us give her a decent bath in the sink. By the time we're done, she is _much_ cleaner. _And look, I can smell without wanting to die._

"Much better." I say, and I tug on a new onesie onto her squirming form. "Judith, stop."

Once it's shimmied up her legs the process is much easier, but she still finds joy in yanking at my strands of hair close to her face. "Judith, no." _YANK!_

A happy babble escapes her, and I sigh in defeat. I look over to Carl as he washes his hands. "I'm gonna shave my head. All of it. Eyebrows too."

"Okay." He smiles at me. "You'll look amazingly crazy, but okay."

"What, you don't think I could rock a bald head?" I raise an eyebrow at him teasingly. Finally I finish fighting with the onesies buttons, and I give Carl a second to dry his hands as I hand over his baby sister. "Judy seems to think so. She wants me to go in that direction."

"Yes, she's very insightful in the fashion department." He swings her gently in his arms as he smiles up to her. The two lead out the door and I follow close behind. "She's starting very young, but we need new fashionistas. She starts the next generation of them."

"I'm so proud." I say dryly.

The two of us make our way down the stairs and to the kitchen, where Carol is cooking up another casserole for the Monroe's.

"Hey, you two." She greets. As she sprinkles some pepper into the mix of food she points to the closet beside the fridge. "There's a stroller in there, if you wanna take her around the town."

I look to Carl, silently questioning it by raising an eyebrow. I'm not sure I wanna leave home base just yet. If anything happens to our group on the dry run, I wanna be near the walkie talkie. _Just in case._

But Carl seems up to the idea. "Yeah, that sounds good. I think Judith could use some fresh air."

"Okay." I softly respond. "I'll stay here, clean up the room upstairs, keep an eye on the walkie talkie?"

He just gives a silent nod, and goes to the closet door. The green and blue stroller is wheeled out, and I help with the buttons that lock baby Grimes in place. _These goddamn buttons. I hate them, but I'm getting better with them._

"See you when you come back?" I ask him.

"Mmhmm." Carl smiles to me. His hand lightly brushes against mine as he pushes the stroller to the front door. I wave to him as he leaves the room.

Absentmindedly, I look over to Carol and the kitchen table. _Goddamn, it's like she's a mad scientist._

Carol has _always_ been a good cook. All those times I slept over Sophia's had proven that, but I almost forgot she could make a mean chicken pot pie. Casseroles, too. I mean, she, Maggie, and a couple others make the main food for our group, but it's not like when she would take her time to make sure it would be delicious. Damn near anything, she could perfect the technique. I have just never seen her in action. Measuring spoons thrown everywhere, ingredients I'm not even sure I know and understand everywhere, and just a general mess takes over everything.

"Baking for fifty?" I ask, half-jokingly and half-apprehensively.

"No." She teases, cutting up a green pepper. "It looks this big now, but trust me, half of this shrinks in the oven."

"Okay." I sing-song to her. I trust her instincts, even if I don't understand them.

"Hand me that onion, will you?" She points to half an onion on my side of the table with a knife before picking up the cutting board in front of her and sliding the pepper into the pan with the blunt edge.

Silently I hand it to her, and she points to another ingredient. "Basil, too."

I grab the shaker of dried basil leaves to her. She mutters a thanks before she haphazardly yanks the top off and shakes a whole bunch of leaves into the mix. I chuckle quietly at the action.

Her gaze lifts up to me as she begins to mix the bowl. "What's so funny?"

"Just..." I shake my head at her before I give my response. "You remind me of Gordon Ramsay, or Iron Chef. You're a whirlwind, Carol."

"I used to love cooking." She confesses, slowing her ministrations a little bit. The smile of nostalgia graces her face as she looks to me. "It was the one thing I really liked back then."

I nod to her, smiling back. "I know."

"Remember those chocolate chip cookies I used to make?"

"You mean the _mint_ chocolate chip cookies? Of course I do!"

"With the green food dye-"

"And the drops of peppermint extract!" Those cookies were the best part of the day when I came over the Peletiers. Softly, I repeat, "I remember."

"Those were really good." Carol says, slowing her movements and reminiscing. "I should make them again."

"You should." I agree. "The team would love them. And I wouldn't mind getting my hand on a dozen or so." I add with a chuckle.

"You'll get a _single_ cookie for that comment." She teases. "Everyone else will get two. _I_ get the rest, remember that."

"Rude." I drawl out, but I'm smiling the whole time. It's refreshing to see her so happy, so much like before. I miss our playful banter.

But of course, all good things must come to an end. I still need to hop upstairs and clean the mess Whirlwind Judith caused. I voice it to Carol, and she nods to let me go.

Thankfully Carl and I had already cleaned out the sink and the shower. The diapers need to be restacked, and I put away the dirty onesie and hand towels into the hamper by the large closet opposite the baby crib. Not one peep comes out of the walkie talkie while I work. No static, no sounds, no nothing. I'm both relieved and still concerned for my team near the quarry.

I shake the thoughts out of my head. _I worry too much._ The baby powder and wipes go back to their respective spots in the cabinet by the sink in the bathroom. My eyes wander to the sink, and I smile as I see two toothbrushes on the left of the faucet. One blue, the other blue and black. Toothpaste rests beside it, nearly empty and beaten up from use. The right side of the faucet holds aftershave and a beaten up razor. I try to imagine mom and Rick in the morning, both groggy and silently fighting for who gets to go and get ready first. Who has to deal with Judith's dirty diaper when they wake up; how they go about delegating it. If mom ever walks in on Rick shaving his beard and if she cracks a wise ass comment.

The thoughts make me smile. They're so domestic to each other; they don't even realize it.

" _CARL! ALYSSA!_ " The walkie talkie on the bed crackles to life, Rick's voice distorted by the static.

" _KIDS! ONE OF YOU PICK UP NOW!_ "

I immediately run to the bed and jump on it to quickly grab the damn thing. My finger fumbles with the button on the side, pressing it down and hollering, "Rick! What happened? What's wrong?"

"- _In the quarry_." I barely register. " _They broke through. We-with the plan_."

"Wait." I repeat the word a good three times before what he says makes sense to me. "They broke through?"

" _Yeah_." This time his voice is clear as day. " _We go through today_."

"It's-it's supposed to be a dry run!" I stutter. My heart pumps quickly in my chest, fear skyrocketing for them.

" _We have to do it today, short straw_." Rick tells me. I can hear the commotion in the background, the moans of the undead behind him. " _We're fine, okay? We practiced, we set everything up. We're ready_."

"But Rick-"

" _We can do this, okay?_ " He reassures me. The signal cuts in and out again. Stupid, choppy, piece of shit. " _Tell Carl and Carol._ _ **Stay safe.**_ _We'll be back home later_."

"Okay, okay." I breathe. "You stay safe too, sheriff."

I bite on my tongue as the line goes dead. _Shit,_ _ **shit!**_

The walkie talkie is nearly thrown on the bed in frustration. I stand up from my spot, shaking and pacing around the room. I _knew_ something had was going to happen. _I knew it._

I close my eyes and force myself to take a deep breath. Rick is right; they'll be fine. They'll come back, we'll all have dinner, and Alexandria will be safe once more.

My hands go to grip the edge of the window in between Judith's crib and changing table. The sun is shining brightly in the sky. Nothing could go wrong on a day like this, right?

I look down to the town underneath me, surveying the houses and people. On my side, I can see Mrs. Neudermeyer in front of her house, a cigarette dangling between her lips. _Ah, the crazy lady who wants the pasta maker._

As she pulls the cigarette from her mouth and puffs out a bit of smoke, a man behind approaches her from behind. I furrow my brow, trying to remember him. I can't.

The guy pulls a machete from his long, beaten coat, runs to her, and slashes her stomach open with it.

I watch, silent but terrified, as she drops to the grass and cries out in pain. He wastes no time in slashing her head open to stop her whining. Grinning, the man dips his fingers into the fresh wound on her face, and he draws the letter, "W," on his forehead.

I run down the stairs as fast as I can, yanking my Glock from my hip and turning the safety off. " _CAROL!_ "

She meets me halfway in the living room. "I know."

"How many did you see?" I pant out. The adrenaline spikes through me quickly.

"I don't know. A dozen, maybe." She answers.

Then another wave of fear crashes through me.

"Carl and Judith are still out there."

* * *

 _A/N: And thus ends the season six premiere for Not How We Were! Ta da! Hope you all liked it._

 _EDIT: After posting this, I realized I did not touch upon an important topic in my author's notes. Silly me. I guess I was just too excited putting this damn thing out that I forgot. Well, here it is:_

 _I have grown up watching The Walking Dead. I've loved it so much as I got to watch my favorite characters grow, see some killed off, and enjoyed the new storylines that I could never have seen coming. It's kept me on my toes, and I enjoyed every minute watching it. Now? Not so much._

 _Truth be told, I've stopped watching it completely. Seasons 7 and 8 have been its worst yet (in my opinion,) and it hasn't held itself up well. Season 7's premiere killed off one of my favorite characters-Glenn. And season 8's midseason finale-Carl. These are OBVIOUSLY two integral characters of my story. And the show hasn't been the same since without them._

 _Throughout, "The World We Live In," series, I have not shied away from the deaths we see on screen, even if they hurt me to write. I loved Andrea and Michonne's relationship, but she had to go. It made sense in the story on-screen as much as it did here. It grew Michonne and Alyssa. Same with Beth. I LOVED Beth, but she had to go, and we got some Maggie and Sasha bonding on tv. On here, Alyssa went **mute** because of her connection to Beth, and her loss of her dear friend. I'm sure some are assuming that I will follow Glenn and Carls' death just like I did with those two. _

_But here's the kicker: I have decided, this is **MY. STORY.** I don't need to follow everything the show does. If I did, Alyssa wouldn't exist, we wouldn't have certain characters developing the way they are here, and Michonne would have had to meet Team Family on her own. So I say to those worried about me writing the end of season 6 and beyond: don't be. I am just as mad as you with what the tv show has done to our beloved characters. _

_Am I completely delving away from the on-screen story? No. We will still have Negan and the Saviors on here. But I will **not** be following the show completely. You'll notice. For once, I have an end in sight for this series. It's not soon, as I have a couple more seasons to go through, but it's being written out as we speak. I hope you all like where I'm going once we get there. I just don't have it in me to follow the show to a T. Not when they killed off Carl. Not when they've killed off Glenn. They've killed off the big hearts in the show, and it's noticeable. I won't do it here. I can't. I've put so much time and effort into this story to let it end like that. _


End file.
